



























































































< 









































































Frontispiece 



* “ THAT NICE MISS JAY PENNE ” » 



AN AMERICAN GIRL 
IN LONDON 


BY 

SARA JEANNETTE DUNCAN 

AUTHOR OF “A SOCIAL DEPARTURE 11 


WITH EIGHTY 
ILLUSTRATIONS 





’«> ° 


NEW YORK 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
1903 




Copyright, 1891, 

By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 

r 

0 <-r 


• • • • « 


• • • • 




e c t 




« .« « 




PREFACE 


FOR THE OTHER AMERICANS, 

I have written this account only secondarily and at the 
instigation of publishers, for Americans. Primarily, I wrote 
it for the English people. I composed it in their country ; 
it was suggested by their institutions, and it is addressed to 
them. You will see, if you read it, that I had reasons for 
doing this. The reasons are in the first chapter, at the very 
beginning. As you have not far to look for them, therefore, 
and as it is quite unnecessary to print a thing twice in the 
same book, I will not go over them again. The object of this 
preface is chiefly to draw your attention to the fact that I 
am not talking to you, dear compatriot, so that you will un- 
derstand that there is no personal ground for any annoyance 
you may feel at what I say. 

Notwithstanding this, one of the Miss Wastgaggles, of 
Boston, has already taken the trouble to send me a rather 
severely reproachful letter about my impressions and experi- 
ences, in which she says that she would have written hers, if 
it had ever occurred to her to do so, very differently. I 
have no doubt that this is true. She also begs me to remem- 
ber that there are a great many different kinds of girls in 
America, numbers of whom are brought up “ quite as they 


vi 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON. 


are in England.” It is this remark of hers that makes me 
quote Miss Wastg aggies. I wish to say in connection with it 
that, while it is unreasonable to apologize for being only one 
kind of American girl, I do not pretend to represent the ideas 
of any more. 

Mamie Wick. 

No. 4000 Prairie Avenue, Chicago, Illinois, 

November 20 , 1890 . 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


1 “ THAT NICE MISS JAY PENNE ” ’ • . • . 

INITIAL ‘ I ’ 

* THAT IS HOW HE MADE HIS FORTUNE ’ . . • » 

* I THINK HE WILL RUN 

‘ SHE WAS TEACHING SCHOOL IN CHICAGO WHEN POPrA MET HER * 


PAGE 

Frontispiece 

1 

3 

4 

5 


‘ I AM AFRAID WE LOOKED AT IT WITH MORE INTEREST THAN WE EVER HAD 
DONE BEFORE ’ 

‘ WE SEEMED TO GET ON TOGETHER EVEN MORE AGREEABLY AFTER THAT ’ 

4 WHAT PUZZLED ME WAS, WHY HE SHOULD HAVE TAKEN ANOTHER CAB ’ 

‘ “ THOSE DISGUSTING AMERICAN GIRLS ” * 
i WHERE SMALL BOYS GO ROUND ON ONE ROLLER SKATE ’ 

‘ FROM THE OUTSIDE I DIDN’T THINK MUCH OF MRS. PORTIIERIS’S HOUSE ’ 

4 THEY SAT UP VERY NICELY INDEED ’ 

‘ THE OLD LADY GATHERED HERSELF UP AND LOOKED AT ME* . 

* IT WAS MISS PURKISS’S ADDRESS ’ . . . . . 

‘SPENT HALF AN HOUR IN THE MIDST OF MV TRUNKS * . 

4 I WAITED FOR THE LADY OF THE HOUSE A CONSCIOUS HYPOCRITE * 

‘“WE SENT TWO’” ....... 

“ 4 I CAN DROP YOU AN V WHERE YOU LIKE” ’ 

4 ONE OF THE LADIES WAS SITTING BOLT UPRIGHT, WITH A STERN, MAJESTIC 
EVE ........ 

‘ 44 THEN I LEAVE YOU, MISS WICK,” SHE SAID, “ TO THIS LADY — AND TO 


8 

18 

20 

24 

30 

34 

37 

39 

45 

46 
56 
66 
69 

73 


PROVIDENCE 


>i » 


77 


Vlll 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


‘“MAKE HIM STOP WAGGLING,” I CALLED TO TIIE DRIVER* 

I 

‘“YOU HAVE THE TOE-BEGANING — THAT MUST BE NICE”’ . 
‘ SOMEBODY HE CALLED 14 DEAR-R-R HEAR-R-R-T ! ” ’ 

‘ “ I WILL NOT HAVE YOU IN STRIPES,” I HEARD HIM SAY ’ . 

15 r**ET A CHILD WITH A TOPHEAVY BONNET ’ . • 


PA0 3 
. 80 

. 92 

. 94 

. 97 

. 99 


' “ PLEASE HOLD MY PARASOL, MR. MAFFERTON, THAT I MAY GET THE EXACT 
TRUTH FOR MY PENNY ” ’ 

‘ “ WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE UNDERGROUND ? ” ’ , . . 

INITIAL ....... • 

4 “ SO THIS IS WILLIAM THE CONQUEKOU ! ” * . . ■ . 

4 LORD MAFFERTON 

4 DISARRANGED MY FEATURES FOR LIFE ’ . . . . • 

4 THE WHOLE PLACE SPOKE OF ITS CHEAPNESS * 

4 THAT GENTLEMAN IN THE CORNER IS A FEATURE OF YOUR OMNIBUS SYSTEM, 

I THINK * . . . . . . . . 

4 THE YOUNG WOMAN CRAWLED AWAY WITH THE NEGLIGENCE THAT BECAME 
THE DEAREST PLACE ’ . 

4 A PERSON OF GREAT DIGNITY, IN HIGH, BLACK SLEEVES ’ . . 

INITIAL ......... 

4 44 YOU WICKED WOMAN ” * . . . . . . . 

“‘REMEMBER, YOUNG LADY, THREE-THIRTY — Sharp”' 

INITIAL 4 W * . . . . • . . . 

‘ WE LOOKED AT SHAKESPEARE, SUPREME AMONG THEM ’ . 

‘ “ LIFE’S A JEST, AND ALL THINGS SHOW IT ; I THOUGHT SO ONCE, AND NOW 
I KNOW IT ” * . . . . . . . . 

INITIAL 4 1 * . . . . . . • , 

4 OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENTS GLORY IN IT ’ , . » , 

INITIAL 4 L * . . . . • . ; 

DANCING LIKE A DISJOINTED FOOT-RULE * . . . 

“‘reverse?” he said; “i don’t think I ever heard of it ” ‘ . # 


101 

103 

105 

111 

123 

126 

130 

134 

137 

138 
140 
145 
147 
149 

155 

156 

161 

164 

170 

176 

178 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


IX 


PAGE 


1 I OSTENSIBLY LOOKED AT THE LANDSCAPE ’ . . . 

1 THEY WERE ALL DIFFERENT FROM ANY AMERICAN GENTLEMEN ’ 

4 ODDIE PRATTIE ’ . . . . . . . , 

* WE DROVE STRAIGHT OUT OF TOWN TO THE PARADE-GROUND * 

‘WITH THEIR GAY LITTLE PENNONS FLYING’ . • . t 

4 WITH AN AIR OF INQUIRY ’ . . . * . 

‘IT BEGAN TO BE LIKE THE DIALOGUES IN THE OLD-FASHIONED READING- 


BOOKS ’ 

• 


© 


• 


• 


• 


• 

• 

4 I WAS TAKEN BY SURPRISE ’ . 


• 


• 


9 


4ft 


« 


• 

INITIAL 4 L ’ . • 

• 


• 


ft 


ft 




ft 

• 

‘ LADY BANDOBUST ’ 


• 


• 


• 


• 


ft 


• 


182 

183 

189 

194 

197 

203 

207 

209 

211 

212 


‘ SHE WAS THE MOST UNINTERESTED PERSON I HAVE HAD THE PLEASURE OF 

TALKING TO IN ENGLAND ’ . . . . . . 214 

‘ MR. BANGLEY COFFIN 224 

4 ALWAYS, AS IF IN IRONY, BY A MAN WHO SOLD GINGERBREAD * . . 232 


‘ AN ACTRESS ON THE LYRIC DRAG GAVE US A VERY FRANK AND FULL-FLAVOURED 


CRITICISM OF OUR DRESSES ’ 

• 

• * 

• 


• 


• 

* I FELT AS IF I WERE IN CHURCH ’ 

• 

• + 


ft 


• 

m 

INITIAL 4 I ’ . . 

• 

• 



* 


• 

4 THE RESPECTABLE SCOUT 

• 

• 9 


• 


9 

• 

‘ A GENUINE BISHOP * . 

ft 

• • 

• 


* 


• 

INITIAL 4 T ’ 

• 

i • 


• 


ft 

• 

INITIAL 4 M ’ . 

• 


• 


• 


• 

4 HE LOOKED AMUSED AT MY IGNORANCE * 

f • 


ft 


ft 

• 

INITIAL 4 I ’ . 

• 

• ft 

i 


f 


• 

1 TWO TIDY LITTLE MAIDS ’ , 

9 

• ft 


ft 


ft 

• 

‘MISS DOROTHY EXPLAINED THAT IT 

WAS A 

CURTSEY * 

• 


• 




233 

240 

243 

246 

253 

255 

263 

267 

272 

275 

281 


1 44 WHOEVER HEARD OF ATTENDING ONE OF HER MAJESTY’S DRAWING-ROOMS IN 

A FROCK MADE IN NEW YORK ! ” ’ • . • . . 285 

' I FOUND THE CURTSEY DIFFICULT AT FIRST ’ , , # 289 


X 


AN AMERICA GIRL IN LONDON 


MOl 


‘ WE WENT DOWN IN THE LIFT, ONE AT A TIME, WITH CHARLOTTE AS TRAIN- 

BEARER «••••••• • 

INITIAL 4 P * . . . . . . . . 

‘ AND CHAOS CAME AGAIN * . . . . . . 

‘ IT WAS MY TURN ’ . . . . . . 

‘ “ IF THIS IS MISS WICK, I DON’T SEE WHY I SHOULDN’T HAVE A KISS TOO ” ’ 
‘ EVEN THEN HE LOOKED, I REMEMBER, A SERIOUS PERSON ’ . 

‘ THE MISSES MAFFERTON, WHO ACCOMPANIED ME, TURNED QUITE PALE ’ 

‘THE LADIES’ STEWA3D’ . . . . • . . 


295 

298 

299 
305 

311 

315 

317 

320 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


i 



AM an American Girl. 
Therefore, perhaps, you 
will not be surprised at 
anything further I may 
have to say for myself. 
I have observed, since 
I came to England, that 
this statement, made by 
a third person in con- 
nection with any question of my 
own conduct, is always broadly 
explanatory. And as my own 
conduct will naturally enter 
more or less into this volume, 
I may as well make it in the 



beginning, to save complications. 

It may be necessary at this point to explain further. I 
know that in England an unmarried person, of my age, is not 
expected to talk much, especially about herself. This was a 
little difficult for me to understand at first, as I have always 
talked a great deal, and, one might say, been encouraged to do 
it ; but I have at length been brought to understand it, and 


1 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


lately I have spoken with becoming infrequency, and chiefly 
about the Zoo. I find the Zoo to be a subject which is almost 
certain to be received with approval ; and in animal nature there 
is, fortunately, a good deal of variety. I do not intend, how- 
ever, in this book, to talk about the Zoo, or anything con- 
nected with it, but about the general impressions and experiences 
I have received in your country ; and one of my reasons for 
departing from approved models of discussion for young ladies 
and striking out, as it were, into subject-matter on my own 
account, is that I think you may find it more or less interesting. 
I have noticed that you are pleased, over here, to bestow rather 
more attention upon the American Girl than upon any other bind 
of American that we produce. You have taken the trouble to 
form opinions about her — I have heard quantities of them. Her 
behaviour and her bringing-up, her idioms and her 4 accent ’ — 
above all her 4 accent '■ — have made themes for you, and you have 
been good enough to discuss them — Mr. James, in your midst, 
correcting and modifying your impressions — with a good deal of 
animation, for you. I observe that she is almost the only 
frivolous subject that ever gets into your newspapers. I have 
become accustomed to meeting her there, usually at the break- 
fast-table, dressed in green satin and diamonds. The encounter 
had quite a shock of novelty for me at first, but that wore off in 
time ; the green satin and diamonds were so invariable. 

Being an American girl myself, I do not, naturally, quite see 
the reason of this, and it is a matter I feel a delicacy about 
inquiring into, on personal grounds. Privately, I should think 
that the number of us that come over here every summer to see 
the Tower of London and the National Gallery, and visit Strat- 
ford-upon-Avon, to say nothing of those who marry and stay in 
England, would have made you familiar witii the kind of young 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


3 


women we are long ago ; and to me it is very curious that you 
should go on talking about us. I can’t say that we object very 
much, because, while you criticise us considerably as a class, 
you are very polite to us individually, and nobody minds being 
criticised as a noun of multitude. But it has occurred to me 
that, since so much is to be said about the American Girl, it 
might be permissible for her to say some of it herself. 

I have learned that in England you like to know a great 
deal about people who are introduced to you — who their fathers 
and mothers are, their grandfathers and grandmothers, and even 
further back than that. 

So I will gratify you 
at once on this point, 
so far as I am able. My 
father is Mr. Joshua 
P. Wick, of Chicago, 

111. — you may have 
seen his name in con- 
nection with the bak- 
ing-powder interest in 
that city. That is how 
he made his fortune — 
in baking-powder; as he has often said, it is to baking-powder 
that we owe everything. He began by putting it up in small 
quantities, but it is an article that is so much used in the 
United States, and ours was such a very good kind, that the 
demand for it increased like anything ; and though we have not 
become so rich as a great many people in America, it is years 
since poppa gave his personal superintendence to the business. 
You will excuse my spelling it £ poppa’; I have called him that 
all my life, and £ papa ’ doesn’t seem to mean anything to me. 



4 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


Lately lie lias devoted himself to politics ; he is in Congress now, 
and at the next election momma particularly wishes him to run 
for senator. There is a great deal of compliance about poppa, 
and I think he will run. 

Momma was a Miss Wactgaggle, of Boston, and she was 



teaching school in Chicago when poppa met her. Her grand- 
father, who educated her, was a manufacturer of glass eyes. 
There are Wastgaggles in Boston now, but they spell the name 
with one 4 g,’ and lately they have been wanting momma to write 
hers 4 Mrs. Wastgagle-Wick ? ; but momma says that since she 
never liked the name well enough to give it to any of her 
children, she is certainly not going to take it again herself. 
These Wastgagles speak of our great-grandfather as a well- 
known oculist, and I suppose, in a sense, he was one. 



4 SHE WAS TEACHING SCHOOL IN CHICAGO WHEN POPPA MET HER ’ 


6 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


My father’s father lived in England, and was also a manu- 
facturer, poppa says, always adding, ‘ in a plain way ; * so I sup- 
pose whatever he made he made himself. It may have been 
boots, or umbrellas, or pastry — poppa never states ; though I 
should be disposed to think, from his taking up the baking- 
powder idea, that it was pastry. 

I am sorry that I am not able to give you fuller satisfaction 
about my antecedents. I know that I must have had more than 
I have mentioned, but my efforts to discover them — and I have 
made efforts since I decided to introduce myself to you — have 
been entirely futile. 1 am inclined to think that they were not 
people who achieved any great distinction in life ; but I have 
never held anything against them on that account, for I have no 
reason to believe that they would not have been distinguished if 
they could. I cannot think that it has ever been in the nature 
of the Wicks, or the Wastgaggles either, to let the oppor- 
tunity for distinction pass through any criminal negligence on 
their part. I am perfectly willing to excuse them on this 
ground, therefore ; and if I, who am most intimately concerned 
in the matter, can afford to do this, perhaps it is not unreason- 
able to expect it of you. 

In connections we do better. A grand-aunt of some early 
Wastgaggles was burned as a witch in Salem, Mass. — a thing 
very few families can point back to, even in England, I should 
think ; and a second cousin of momma’s was the first wife of one 
of our Presidents. He was a Democratic President, though, and 
as poppa always votes the Republican ticket, we don’t think much 
of that. Besides, as we are careful to point out whenever we 
mention the subject, she was in the cemetery years before he was 
in the White House. And there is Mrs. Portheris, of Half-Moon 
Street, Hyde Park, who is poppa’s aunt by her first marriage. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


1 


We were all coming at first, poppa, and momma, and I — the 
others are still in school — and it had appeared among the ‘ City 
Personals’ of the ‘Chicago Tribune’ that ‘Colonel and Mrs. 
Joshua P. Wick, accompanied by Miss Mamie Wick’ — I forgot 
to say that poppa was in the Civil War — ‘ would have a look at 
monarchical institutions this summer.’ Our newspapers do get 
hold of things so. But just a week before we were to sail 
something arose — I think it was a political complication — to pre- 
vent poppa’s going, and momma is far too much of an invalid to 
undertake such a journey without him. I must say that both 
my parents are devoted to me, and when I said I thought I’d 
prefer going alone to giving up the trip, neither of them opposed 
it. Momma said she thought I ought to have the experience, 
because, though I’d been a good deal in society in Chicago, she 
didn’t consider that that in itself was enough. Poppa said that 
the journey was really nothing nowadays, and he could easily 
get me a letter of introduction to the captain. Besides, in a 
shipful of two or three hundred there would be sure to be some 
pleasant people I could get acquainted with on the voyage. 
Mrs. Von Stuvdidyl, who lives next door to us, and has been to 
Europe several times, suggested that I should take a maid, and 
momma rather liked the idea, but I persuaded her out of it. I 
couldn’t possibly have undertaken the care of a maid. 

And then we all thought of Mrs. Portheris. 

None of us had ever seen her, and there had been very little 
correspondence ; in fact, we had not had a letter from her since 
several years ago, when she wrote a long one to poppa, some- 
thing about some depressed California mining stock, I believe, 
which she thought poppa, as her nephew and an American, 
ought to take off her hands before it fell any lower. And I 
remember that poppa obliged her : whether as an American or 
2 


8 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


as her nephew I don’t know. After that she sent us every year 
a Christmas card, with an angel or a bunch of forget-me-nots on 
it, inscribed, 4 To my nephew and niece, Joshua Peter and Mary 
Wick, and all their dear ones.’ Her latest offering was lying in 
the card-basket on the table then, and I am afraid we looked at 
it with more interest than we had ever done before. The 4 dear 



‘ I AM AFRAID WE LOOKED AT IT WITH MORE INTEREST THAN 
WE EVER HAD DONE BEFORE ’ 


ones ’ read so sympathetically that momma said she knew we could 
depend upon Mrs. Portheris to take me round and make me 
enjoy myself, and she wanted to cable that I was coming. But 
poppa said No, his aunt must be getting up in years now, and 
an elderly English lady might easily be frightened into apoplexy 
by a cablegram. It was a pity there was no time to write, but 
I must just go and see her immediately, and say that I was the 
daughter of Joshua P. Wick, of Chicago, and she would be 
certain to make me feel at home at once. But, as I said, none 
of us knew Mrs. Portheris. 



AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


9 


II 

J AM not much acquainted in New York, so I had only poppa 
and Mr. Winterhazel to see me off. Mr. Winterhazel lives 
there, and does business in Wall Street, where he operates very 
successfully, I’ve been told, for such a young man. We had 
been the greatest friends and regular correspondents for three 
or four years — our tastes in literature and art were almost 
exactly the same, and it was a mutual pleasure to keep it up — 
but poppa had never met him before. They were very happy to 
make each other’s acquaintance, though, and became quite inti- 
mate at once ; they had heard so much about each other, they 
said. We had allowed two days before the steamer sailed, so 
that I could make some purchases — New York styles are so dif- 
ferent from Chicago ones ; and, as poppa said afterwards, it was 
very fortunate that Mr. Winterhazel was there. Otherwise, I 
should have been obliged to go round to the stores alone ; for 
poppa himself was so busy seeing people about political matters 
that he hadn’t the thirtieth part of a second for me, except at 
meal-times, and then there was almost always somebody there. 
London is nothing to New York for confusion and hurry, and 
until you get accustomed to it the Elevated is apt to be very 
trying to your nerves. But Mr. Winterhazel was extremely 
kind, and gave up his whole time to me ; and as he knew all 
the best stores, this put me under the greatest obligation to him. 
After dinner the first evening he took me to hear a gentleman 


io AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 

who was lecturing on the London of Charles Dickens, with a 
stereopticon, thinking that, as I was going to London, it would pro- 
bably be of interest to me — and it was. I anticipated your city 
more than ever afterwards. Poppa was as disappointed as could 
be that he wasn’t able to go with us to the lecture ; but he said 
that politics were politics, and I suppose they are. 

Next day I sailed from North River Docks, Pier No. 2, a 
fresh wind blowing all the harbour into short blue waves, with 
the sun on them, and poppa and Mr. Winterhazel taking off 
their hats and waving their handkerchiefs as long as I could see 
them. I suppose I started for Great Britain with about as many 
comforts as most people have — poppa and Mr. Winterhazel had 
almost filled my state-room with flowers, and I found four pounds 
of caramels under the lower berth — but I confess, as we steamed 
out past Staten Island, and I saw the statue of Liberty getting 
smaller and smaller, and the waves of the Atlantic Ocean getting 
bigger and bigger, I felt very much by myself indeed, and 
began to depend a good deal upon Mrs. Portheris. 

As to the caramels, in the next three hours I gave the whole 
of them to the first stewardess, who was kind enough to oblige 
me with a lemon. 

Before leaving home I had promised everybody that I would 
keep a diary, and most of the time I did ; but I find nothing at 
all of interest in it about the first three days of the voyage to 
London. The reason was that I had no opportunity whatever of 
making observations. But on the morning of the fourth day I was 
obliged to go on deck. The stewardess said she couldn’t put up 
with it any longer, and I would never recover if I didn’t ; and I was 
very glad afterwards that I gave in. She was a real kind-hearted 
stewardess, I may say, though her manner was a little peremptory. 

I didn’t find as much sociability on deck as I expected. I 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


ii 


should have thought everybody would have been more or less ac- 
quainted by that time, but, with the exception of a few gentlemen, 
people were standing or sitting round in the same little knots 
they came on board in. And yet it was very smooth. I was 
so perfectly delighted to be well again that I felt I must talk to 
somebody, so I spoke to one of a party of ladies from Boston 
who I thought might know the Wastgagles there. I was very 
polite, and she did not seem at all sea-sick, but I found it 
difficult to open up a conversation with her. I knew that the 
Bostonians thought a good deal of themselves — all the Wast- 
gagles do — and her manner somehow made me think of a story 
I once heard of a Massachusetts milestone, marked 4 1 m. from 
Boston,’ which somebody thought was a wayside tablet with the 
simple pathetic epitaph, 4 I’m from Boston,’ on it; and just to 
enliven her I told her the story. 4 Indeed ! 9 she said. 4 Well, 
we are from Boston.’ 

I didn’t quite know what to do after that, for the only other 
lady near me was English, I knew by her boots. Beside the 
boots she had grey hair and pink cheeks, and rather sharp grey 
eyes, and a large old-fashioned muff, and a red cloud. Only an 
Englishwoman would be wearing a muff and a cloud like that in 
public — nobody else would dare to do it. She was rather portly, 
and she sat very firmly and comfortably in her chair with her 
feet crossed, done up in a big Scotch rug, and being an English- 
woman I knew that she would not expect anybody to speak to 
her who had not been introduced. She would probably, I 
thought, give me a haughty stare, as they do in novels, and say, 
with cold repression, 4 You have the advantage of me, miss ! ’ — 
and then what would my feelings be ? So I made no more ad- 
vances to anybody, but walked off my high spirits on the hurri- 
cane-deck, thinking about the exclusiveness of those Bostonians, 


12 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


and wondering whether, as a nation, we could be catching it 
from England. 

You may imagine my feelings — or rather, as you are probably 
English, you can’t — when the head steward gave me my place 
at the dinner-table immediately opposite the Bostonians, and 
between this lady and an unknown gentleman. 6 I shall not 
make a single travelling acquaintance ! ’ I said to myself as I sat 
down — and I must say I was disappointed. I began to realise 
how greatly we had all unconsciously depended upon my forming 
nice travelling acquaintances, as people always do in books, to 
make the trip pleasant, and I thought that in considering an- 
other voyage I should divorce myself from that idea beforehand. 
However, I said nothing, of course, and found a certain amount 
of comfort in my soup. 

I remember the courses of that dinner very well, and if they 
were calculated to make interesting literary matter I could write 
them out. The Bostonians ostentatiously occupied themselves 
with one another. One of them took up a position several miles 
behind her spectacles, looked at me through them, and then said 
something to her neighbour about c Daisy Miller,’ which the 
neighbour agreed to. I know what they meant now. The 
gentleman, when he was not attending to his dinner, stared at 
the salt-cellar most of the time, in a blank, abstracted way ; and 
the English lady, who looked much nicer unshelled than she did 
on deck, kept her head carefully turned in the other direction, 
and made occasional remarks to an elderly person next her who 
was very deaf. If I had not been hungry, I don’t know how I 
should have felt. But I maintained an absolute silence and ate 
my dinner. 

Gradually — perhaps because the elderly person was so 
extremely deaf, and my own behaviour comparatively unaggres- 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


13 


give — the lady of England began to assume a less uncomfortable 
position. A certain repellent air went out of her right shoulder. 
Presently she sat quite parallel with the table. By the advent 
of the pudding — it was cabinet pudding — I had become con- 
scious that she had looked at me casually three times. When 
the Gorgonzola appeared I refused it. In America ladies eat 
very little Gorgonzola. 

4 Don’t you like cheese ? * she said, suddenly, a little as if I 
had offended her. I was so startled that I equivocated some- 
what. 

4 No’m, not to day, I think — thank you ! 9 I said. The fact 
is, I never touch it. 

4 Oh ! * she responded. 4 But then, this is your first ap- 
pearance, I suppose ? In that case, you wouldn’t like it.’ And 
I felt forgiven. 

She said nothing more until dessert, and then she startled 
me again. 4 Have you been bad ? ’ she inquired. 

I didn’t know quite what to say, it seemed such an extra- 
ordinary question, but it flashed upon me that perhaps the lady 
was some kind of missionary, in which case it was my duty to 
be respectful. So I said that I hoped not — that at least I 
hadn’t been told so since I was a very little girl. 4 But then,’ 
I said, 4 The Episcopalian Prayer-book says we’re all miserable 
sinners, doesn’t it ? ’ The lady looked at me in astonishment. 

4 What has the Prayer-book to do with your being ill ? ’ 
she exclaimed. 4 Oh, I see ! ’ and she laughed very heartily. 
4 You thought I meant naughty ! Cross-questions and crooked 
answers ! Mr. Mafferton, you will appreciate this ! ’ Mr. 
Mafferton was the gentleman whom I have mentioned in con- 
nection with the salt-cellars ; and my other neighbour seemed 
fco know him, which, as they both came from England, did not 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


14 

surprise me then, although now I should be inclined to consider 
that the most likely reason of all why they shouldn’t be ac- 
quainted. I didn’t see anything so very humorous in it, but 
the lady explained our misunderstanding to Mr. Mafferton as if 
it were the greatest joke imaginable, and she had made it 
herself. 4 Really,’ she said, 4 it’s good enough for 44 Punch ! ’ ” 
I was unfamiliar with that paper then, and couldn’t say ; but 
now I think it was myself. 

Mr. Mafferton coloured dreadfully — I omitted to say that he 
was a youngish gentleman — and listened with a sort of strained 
smile, which debouched into a hesitating and uncomfortable 
remark about ‘curious differences in idioms.’ I thought he 
intended it to be polite, and he said it in the most agreeable 
man’s voice I had ever heard ; but I could not imagine what 
there was to flurry him so, and I felt quite sorry for him. And 
he had hardly time to get safely back to the salt-cellar before we 
all got up. 

Next morning at breakfast I got on beautifully with the 
English lady, who hardly talked to the elderly deaf person at all, 
but was kind enough to be very much interested in what I 
expected to see in London. 4 Your friends will have their 
hands full,’ she remarked, with a sort of kind acerbity, 4 if 
they undertake to show you all that ! ’ I thought of poor old 
Mrs. Portheris, who was probably a martyr to rheumatism and 
neuralgia, with some compunction. 4 Oh ! ’ I said, 4 1 shouldn’t 
think of asking them to ; I’ll read it all up, and then I can go 
round beautifully by myself!’ 

4 By yourself /’ she exclaimed. 4 You! This is an inde- 
pendent American young lady — the very person I went espe- 
cially to the United States to see, and spent a whole season in 
New York, going everywhere, without coming across a single 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


15 


specimen ! You must excuse my staring at you. But you’ll 
have to get over that idea. Your friends will never in the world 
allow it — I suppose you have friends ? ’ 

‘ No,’ I said ; ‘ only a relation.’ 

The lady laughed. 4 Do you intend that for a joke ? ’ she 
asked. 4 Well, they do mean different things sometimes. But 
we’ll see what the relation will have to say to it.’ 

Mr. Mafferton occasionally removed his eyes from the salt’ 
cellar during this meal, and even ventured a remark or two, 
The remarks were not striking in any way — there was no food 
for thought in them whatever ; yet they were very agreeable. 
Whether it was Mr. Mafferton’s voice, or his manner, or his 
almost apologetic way of speaking, as if he knew that he was 
not properly acquainted, and ought not to do it, I don’t know, 
but I liked hearing him make them. It was not, however, 
until later in the day, when I was sitting on deck talking with 
the lady from England about New York, where she didn’t seem 
to like anything but the air and the melons, that I felt the least 
bit acquainted with Mr. Mafferton. I had found out her name, 
by the way. She asked me mine, and when I told her she said : 
4 But you’re old enough now to have a Christian name — weren’t 
you christened Mary ? ’ She went on to say that she believed 
in the good old-fashioned names, like Nancy and Betsy, that 
couldn’t be babified — and I am not sure whether she told me, or 
it was by intuition, that I learned that hers was Hephzibah. It 
seems to me now that it never could have been anything else. 
But I am quite certain she added that her husband was Hector 
Torquilin, and that he had been dead fifteen years. 4 A dis- 
tinguished man in his time, my dear, as you would know if you 
had been brought up in an English schoolroom.’ And just then, 
while I was wondering what would be the most appropriate thing 


i6 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


to say to a lady who told you that her husband had been dead 
fifteen years, and was a distinguished man in his time, and 
wishing that I had been brought up in an English schoolroom, 
so that I could be polite about him, Mr. Mafferton came up. 
He had one of Mr. W. D. Howells’ novels in his hand, and at 
once we glided into the subject of American literature. I re 
member I was surprised to find an Englishman so good-natured 
in his admiration of some of our authors, and so willing to con- 
cede an American standard which might be a high one, and yet 
have nothing to do with Dickens, and so appreciative generally 
of the conditions which have brought about our ways of thinking 
and writing. We had a most delightful conversation — I had 
no idea there was so much in Mr. Mafferton — and Mrs. Torquilin 
only interrupted once. That was to ask us if either of us had 
ever read the works of Fenimore Cooper, who was about the 
only author America had ever produced. Neither of us had, and I 
said I thought there were some others. ‘ Well,’ she said, ‘ he 
is the only one we ever hear of in England.’ But I don’t think 
Mrs. Torquilin was quite correct in this statement, because since 
I have been in England I have met three or four people, beside 
Mr. Mafferton, who knew, or at least had heard of, several 
American writers. Then Mrs. Torquilin went to sleep, and 
when she woke up it was five o’clock, and her maid was just 
arriving with her tea. Mr. Mafferton asked me if he might get 
me some, but I said, No, thanks ; I thought I would take a 
brisk walk instead, if Mrs. Torquilin would excuse me. 

‘ Certainly,’ she said ; ‘ go and take some exercise, both of 
you. It’s much better for young people than tea-drinking. 
And see here, my dear ! I thought you were very sensible not 
to dress for dinner last night, like those silly young fools oppo- 
site. Silly young fools I call them. Now, take my advice, and 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


17 


don’t let them persuade you to do it. An Atlantic steamer is 
no place for bare arms. Now run away, and have your walk, 
and Mr. Mafferton will see that you’re not blown overboard.’ 

Mr. Mafferton hesitated a moment. 4 Are you quite sure, 
he said, 4 that you wouldn’t prefer the tea ? ’ 

4 Oh yes, sir ! ’ I said ; 4 we always have tea at half-past six 
at home, and I don’t care about it so early as this. I’d much 
rather walk. But don’t trouble to come with me if you would 
like some tea.’ 

4 I’ll come,’ he said, 4 if you won’t call me 44 sir.” 9 Here he 
frowned a little and coloured. 4 It makes one feel seventy, you 
know. May I ask why you do it ? ’ 

I explained that in Chicago it was considered polite to say 
4 ma’am’ or 4 sir’ to a lady or gentleman of any age with whom 
you did not happen to be very well acquainted, and I had heard 
it all my life ; still, if he objected to it, I would not use it in his 
case. 

He said he thought he did object to it — from a lady ; it had 
other associations in his ears. 

So I stopped calling Mr. Mafferton 4 sir ’ ; and since then, 
except to very old gentlemen, I have got out of the way of using 
the expression. I asked him if there was anything else that 
struck him as odd in my conversation kindly to tell me, as of 
course I did not wish to be an unnecessary shock to my relation 
in Half-Moon Street. He did not say he would, but we seemed 
to get on together even more agreeably after that. 

Mr. Mafferton appeared to know nobody on board but Mrs. 
Torquilin ; and I made acquaintance with hardly anybody else, 
so that we naturally saw a good deal of each other, usually in 
the afternoons, walking up and down the deck. He lent me all 
his books, and I lent him all mine, and we exchanged opinions on 


18 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 

a great variety of subjects. When we argued, he was always 
very polite and considerate; but I noticed one curious thing 
about him — I never could bring him round to my point of view. 
He did not seem to see the necessity of coming, although I often 



* WE SEEMED TO GET ON TOGETHER EVEN MORE AGREEABLY AFTER THAT ’ 


went round to his. This was a new experience to me in arguing 
with a gentleman. And he always talked very impersonally. 
At first this struck me as a little cold and uninterested, but 
afterwards I liked it. It was like drinking a very nice kind of 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


19 


pure cold water — after the different flavours of personality I had 
always been accustomed to. Mr. Mafferton only made one 
exception to this rule that I remember, and that was the after- 
noon before we landed. Then he told me particularly about his 
father and mother, and their tastes and occupations, also the 
names and ages of his brothers and sisters, and their tastes and 
occupations, and where he lived. But I cannot say I found him 
as interesting that afternoon as usual. 

I need not describe the bustle and confusion of landing at 
Liverpool Docks in the middle of a wet April afternoon. Mrs. 
Torquilin had told me at breakfast not on any account to let 
my- relations take me away before she had given me her address ; 
but when the time came I guess — if you will allow me — she 
must have forgotten, because the last time I saw her she was 
standing under a very big umbrella, which the maid held over 
her, a good deal excited, and giving a great many orders about 
her luggage to a nervous-looking man in livery. 

I easily identified mine, and got off by train for London 
without any trouble to speak of. We arrived rather late, though, 
and it was still pouring. 

4 What has become of your people ? 9 asked somebody at my 
elbow. I turned and saw Mr. Mafferton, who must have come 
down by the same train. 

4 1 didn’t expect my relation to meet me,’ I said ; 4 she doesn’t 
expect me ! 9 

4 Oh ! 9 said Mr. Mafferton ; 4 you did not write to her before 
you sailed ? ’ 

4 No, 5 I said. 4 There wasn’t time.’ 

4 Upon my word ! ’ said Mr. Mafferton. Then, as J suppose 
I looked rather surprised, he added, hastily : 4 1 only mean that 
it seems so — so uncommonly extraordinary, you know ! But I 


20 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


would advise you, in that case, to give the bulk of your luggage 
into the hands of the forwarding agents, with instructions to send 
it early to-morrow to your friend’s 
address. It is all you can do to- 
night,’ said Mr. Mafferton, v< really. 

Of course, you will go there imme- 
diately yourself.’ 

‘ No,’ I responded, firmly ; c I 
think not, Mr. Mafferton. My rela- 
tion is very elderly, and probably in 
bad health. For all I know, she may 
have gone to bed. I must not dis- 




‘ WHAT PUZZLED ME WAS, WHY HE SHOULD HAVE TAKEN ANOTHER CAB ’ 


turb her so late. All the people I have ever known have stayed 
at the u Metropole ” in London. I will go to the Metropolefor 
to-night, and have my things sent there. To-morrow I will go 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


21 


and see my relation, and if she asks me to visit her I can easily 
telephone up for them. Thank you very much/ 

Mr. Mafferton looked as sober as possible, if not a little 
annoyed. Then he went and got the agent’s young man, and 
asked me to point out my things to him, which I did, and got 
receipts. Then he told a porter to call a cab, and put my smaller 
valises into it. c I will put you in,’ he said, and he gave me his 
arm and his umbrella, through the wettest rain I have ever 
experienced, to the hansom. I thanked him again very cordially, 
and before he said good-bye he very kindly gave me his card 
and address, and begged me to let him know if there was any- 
thing he could do for me. 

Then I rattled away through the blurred lights of your inter- 
minable twisted streets to the Metropole, fancying I saw West- 
minster Abbey or St. Paul’s through the rain at every turn. 

When we stopped at last before the hotel, another hansom 
behind us stopped too, and though I am sure he didn’t intend 
me to, I saw quite plainly through the glass — Mr. Mafferton. 
It was extremely kind of him to wish to be of assistance to a 
lady alone, especially in such weather, and I could easily under- 
stand his desire to see me to my hotel ; but what puzzled me 
was, why he should have taken another cab ! 

And all night long I dreamed of Mrs. Portheria. 


22 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


m 

I ONCE visited the Wastgagles in Boston with momma. It was 
a visit of condolence, just after the demise of a grandmother 
of theirs. I was going to say, that never since that occasion had 
I experienced anything like the solemnity of my breakfast at 
the Metropole the morning after I arrived. As a sad-faced 
waiter with mutton-chop whiskers marshalled me across the room 
to an empty little white-and-silvery table beside one of the big 
windows, I felt, for the first time in my life, that I was being 
made imposing, and I objected to the feeling. The place itself 
did not impress me particularly — in America we are accustomed 
to gorgeousness in our hotels, and the mirrors and the gilding 
of the Metropole rather made me feel at home than otherwise ; 
but it was the demeanour of everything that weighed upon me. 
My very chair lived up to its own standard of decorum ; and 
the table seemed laid upon a pattern of propriety that it would 
never willingly depart from. There was an all-pervading sense 
of order in the air. I couldn’t make out exactly where it came 
from, but it was there, and it was fearful. The waiters spoke 
to each other in low tones, as if something of deep and serious 
importance were going on ; and when I told one of them what 
I should like from the bill-of-fare, he bent down his ear and 
received my order as if it had been confidential State business I 
was asking him to undertake. When he came back, carrying 
the tray in front of him, it was almost processional. And in the 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


23 


interval, when I turned round to look out of the window, and 
saw another of those respectfully-subdued waiters standing 
behind my chair, quite motionless, I jumped. A great many 
people were getting their breakfasts, not with the cheerful alac- 
rity which we use at home, but rather with a portentous deli- 
beration and concentration which did not admit of much talking. 
The silence was broken only in one corner, where a group of 
Americans seemed to have got accustomed to the atmosphere. 
When the English breakfasters raised their eyes from their 
papers and eggs-and-toast, they regarded my talkative com- 
patriots with a look which must have fairly chilled their tea. I 
hope nobody has ever looked at me like that in England The 
Americans were from Virginia, as I could tell by their accent, 
and their 4 c’y’arn’t ’ and 4 sisT ’and 4 honey ’ and 4 heap better.’ 
But I have no doubt the English people, in their usual loftily com- 
prehensive fashion, set the strangers down as 4 Yankees,’ and no 
amount of explanation could have taught them that the 4 Yankees ’ 
are the New Englanders, and that the name would once have been 
taken as an insult by a Southerner. But the Virginians were 
blissfully indifferent to the British estimate of themselves, and they 
talked as freely of their shopping and sight-seeing as they would 
in Delmonico’s or the Brunswick. To be perfectly honest, a 
conviction came to me then that sometimes we don’t care enough. 
But, for my part, I liked listening to that Virginian corner. 

I’m afraid it was rather a late breakfast, and the lobby 
was full of people strolling in and out when I went through on 
my way to my room. I stood for a moment at the dining-room 
door looking at the lobby — I had heard so many Chicago people 
describe it — and I noticed in the seats that run around it, 
against the wall, two young women. They were leaning back 
nonchalantly, watching the comers and the goers. Both of 
3 


24 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


them had their knees crossed, and one had her hands in her 
jacket pockets. A man in the seat next them, who might or 
might not have belonged to them, was smoking a large cigar. 
Two English ladies came out from breakfast behind me, stood 
waiting for somebody, and said one to the other : 4 Look at 
those disgusting American girls ! 5 But I had seen the young 
women’s boots. Just to be satisfied, I walked up to one of them, 



THOSE DISGUSTING AMERICAN GIRLS ” * 


and asked her if she could kindly tell me when I ought to post 
letters for New York. 

‘ The American maiyel goes out Wednesdays an’ Satuhdays, 
I fancy,’ the young woman replied, 4 but I’m not suah ; it would 
be saifah to ask the clahk ! ’ 

She spoke quite distinctly, so that the English ladies must 
have heard her, and I am afraid they saw in my glance as I 
went upstairs that I had intended to correct their mistake. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


25 


I started to see Mrs. Portheris at eleven o’clock on the 
morning of the 9th of April — a lovely day, a day which augured 
brightly and hopefully. I waited carefully till eleven, thinking 
by that time my relation would have had her breakfast in bed 
and been dressed, and perhaps have been helped downstairs to 
her own particular sunny window, where I thought I might see 
her faded, placid, sweet old face looking up from her knitting 
and out into the busy street. Words have such an inspiring 
effect upon the imagination. All this had emanated from the 
‘ dear ones,’ and I felt confident and pleased and happy before- 
hand to be a dear one. I wore one of my plainest walking- 
dresses — I love simplicity in dress — so as to mitigate the shock 
to my relation as far as I could ; but it was a New York one, 
and it gave me a great deal of moral support. It may be weak- 
minded in me, but I simply couldn’t have gone to see my rela- 
tion in a hat and gloves that didn’t match. Clothes and courage 
have so much to do with each other. 

The porter said that I had better take c a ’ansom,’ or if I 
walked to Charing Cross I could get ‘ a ’Ammersmith ’bus ’ 
which would take me to Half- Moon Street, Piccadilly. I asked 
him if there were any street-cars running that way. 1 D’ye 
mean growlers, miss ? ’ he said. c I can get ye a growler in 
’arf a minute.’ But I didn’t know what he meant, and I didn’t 
like the sound of it. A ‘ growler ’ was probably not at all a 
proper thing for a young lady to ride in ; and I was determined 
to be considerate of the feelings of my relation. I saw ladies 
in hansoms, but I had never been in one at home, and they 
looked very tiltuppy. Also, they went altogether too fast, and 
as it was a slippery day the horses attached to them sat down 
and rested a great deal'oftener than I thought I should like. 
And when the animals were not poor old creatures that were 


26 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


obliged to sit down in tbis precipitate way, they danced and 
pranced in a manner which did not inspire me with confidence. 
In America our cab-horses know themselves to be cab-horses, and 
behave accordingly — they have none of the national theories 
about equality whatever ; but the London quadrupeds might be 
the greatest Democrats going from the airs they put on. And 
I saw no street-cars anywhere. So I decided upon the ’Ammer- 
smith ’bus, and the porter pointed out the direction of Charing 
Cross. 

It seems to me now that I was what you would call c uncom- 
monly ’ stupid about it, but I hadn’t gone very far before I 
realised that I did not quite know what Charing Cross was. I 
had come, you see, from a city where the streets are mostly 
numbered, and run pretty much in rows. The more I thought 
about it, the less it seemed to mean anything. So I asked a 
large policeman — the largest and straightest policeman, with 
the reddest face I had ever seen : ‘ Mr. Officer,’ I said, knowing 
your fondness for titles in this country, ‘what is Charing 
Cross?’ 

He smiled very kindly. ‘ Wy, miss,’ he said, ‘ there’s Char- 
ing Cross Station, and there’s Charing Cross ’Otel, and there’s 
Charing Cross. Wot were you wanting pertickeler ? * 

‘ Charing Cross ! ’ said I. 

1 There it lies, in front of you ! ’ the policeman said, waving 
his arm so as to take in the whole of Trafalgar Square. ‘ It 
ain’t possible for you to miss it, Miss. And as three other 
people were waiting to ask him something else, I thought 
I ought not to occupy his attention any further. I kept 
straight on, in and out among the crowd, comparing it in my 
mind with a New York or Chicago crowd. I found a great 
many more kinds of people in it than there would be at home. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


2 ? 


You are remarkably different in this country. We are a good 
deal the same. I was not at all prepared then to make a com- 
parison of averages, but I noticed that life seemed to mean some- 
thing more serious for most of the people I met than it does with 
us. Hardly anybody was laughing, and very few people were 
making unseemly haste about their business. There was no 
eagerness and no enthusiasm. Neither was there any hustling. 
In a crowd like that in Chicago everybody would have hustled, 
and nobody would have minded it. 

c Where is Charing Cross ? ’ I asked one of the flower- 
women sitting by the big iron entrances to the station. c Right 
’ere, miss, ware you be a-standin’ ! Buy a flower, miss ? Only 
a penny ! an’ lovely they are ! I)o buy one, laidy ! ’ It was 
dreadfully pathetic, the way she said it, and she had frightful 
holes in her shawl, and no hat or bonnet on. I had never seen 
a woman selling things out of doors with nothing on her head 
before, and it hurt me somehow. But I couldn’t possibly have 
bought her flowers — they were too much like her. So I gave her 
a sixpence, and asked her where I could find an ’Ammersmith 
’bus. She thanked me so volubly that I couldn’t possibly under- 
stand her, but I made out that if I stayed where I was an 
’Ammersmith ’bus would presently arrive. She went on asking 
me to buy flowers though, so I walked a little farther off. I 
waited a long time, and not a single ’bus appeared with ’Ammer- 
smith on it. Finally, I asked another policeman. ‘There!’ ho 
said, as one of the great lumbering concerns rolled up — ‘ that’s 
one of ’em now ! You’ll get it ! ’ I didn’t like to dispute with 
an officer of the law, but I had seen plenty of that particular 
red variety of ’bus go past, and to be quite certain I said : ‘ But 
isn’t that a Hammersmith one ? ’ The policeman looked quite 
cross. 4 Well, isn’t that what you’re a-askin’ for ? ’Ammersmith 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


*8 

an’ ’Ammersmith — it’s all the saime, dependin’ on ’ow you per- 
nounces it. Some people calls it ’Ammersmith, an’ some people 
calls it ’Ammersmith . ! ’ and he turned a broad and indignant 
back upon me. I flew for the ’bus, and the conductor, in a 
friendly way, helped me on by my elbow. 

I did not think, before, that anything could wobble like an 
Atlantic steamer, but I experienced nothing more trying coming 
over than that Hammersmith ’bus. And there were no straps 
from the roof to hold on by — nothing but a very high and in- 
convenient handrail ; and the vehicle seemed quite full of stout 
old gentlemen with white whiskers, who looked deeply annoyed 
when I upset their umbrellas and unintentionally plunged upon 
their feet. ‘ More room houtside, miss ! ’ the conductor said — 
which I considered impertinent, thinking that he meant in the 
road. ‘ Is there any room on top ?’ I asked him, because I had 
walked on so many of the old gentlemen’s feet that I felt uncom- 
fortable about it. ‘ Yes, miss ; that’s wot I’m a-sayin’ — lots o’ 
room Aoz^side ! ’ So I took advantage of a lame man’s getting 
off to mount the spiral staircase at the back of the ’bus and 
take a seat on top. It is a pity, isn’t it, that Noah didn’t think 
of an outside spiral staircase like that to his ark. He might 
have accommodated so many more of the animals, providing 
them, of course, with oilskin covers to keep off the wet, as you 
do. But even coming from a bran new and irreverent country, 
where nobody thinks of consulting the Old Testament for models 
of public conveyances, anybody can see that in many respects 
you have improved immensely upon Noah. 

It was lovely up there — exactly like coming on deck after 
being in a stuffy little cabin in the steamer — a good deal of 
motion, but lots of fresh air. I was a little nervous at first, but 
as nobody fell off the tops of any of the other ’buses, I concluded 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


29 


that it was not a thing you were expected to do, and presently 
forgot all about it looking at the people swarming below me. 
My position made me feel immeasurably superior — at such a 
swinging height above them all — and I found myself speculating 
about them and criticising them, as I never should have done 
walking. I had never ridden on the top of anything before ; it 
gave me an entirely new revelation of my fellow-creatures — if 
your monarchical feelings will allow that expression from a 
Republican. I must say I liked it — looking down upon people 
who were travelling in the same direction as I was, only on a 
level below. I began to understand the agreeableness of class 
distinctions, and I wondered whether the arrangement of seats 
on the tops of the ’buses was not, probably, a material result of 
aristocratic prejudices. 

Oh, I liked it through and through, that first ride on a 
London ’bus ! To know just how I liked it, and why, and how 
and why we all like it from the other side of the Atlantic, you 
must be born and brought up, as most of us have been, in a 
city twenty-five or fifty years old, where the houses are all made 
of clean white or red brick, with clean green lawns and geranium 
beds and painted iron fences ; where rows of nice new maple- 
trees are planted in the clean-shaved boulevards, and fresh- 
planed wooden sidewalks run straight for a mile or two at a 
time, and all the city blocks stand in their proper right angles — 
which are among our advantages, I have no doubt; but our 
advantages have a way of making your disadvantages more in- 
teresting. Having been monarchists all your lives, however, 
you can‘t possibly understand what it is to have been brought 
up in fresh paint. I ought not to expect it of you. If you 
could, though, I should find it easier to tell you, according to 
my experience, why we are all so devoted to London. 


30 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


There was the smell, to begin with. I write 4 there was/ 
because I regret to say that during the past few months I have 
become accustomed to it, and for me that smell is done up in 
a past tense for ever ; so that I can quite understand a Londoner 
not believing in it. The Hammersmith ’bus 
was in the Strand when I first became conscious 
of it, and I noticed afterwards that it was 

always more pro- 
nounced down there, 
in the heart of the 
City, than in Ken- 
sington, for in- 
stance. It was no 
special odour or 
collection of odours 
that could be dis- 
tinguished — it was 
rather an abstract 
smell — and yet it 
gave a kind of 
solidity and nutri- 
ment to the air, and 
made you feel as if 
your lungs digested 
it. There was com- 
fort and support 
and satisfaction in 
that smell, and I often vainly try to smell it again. 

We find the irregularity of London so gratifying, too. The 
way the streets turn and twist and jostle each other, and lead 
up into nothing, and turn around and come back again, and 



WHERE SMALL BOYS GO 
ROUND ON ONE ROLLER 
SKATE * 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


3 * 


assume aliases , and break out into circuses and stray into queer, 
dark courts, where small boys go round on one roller skate, or 
little green churchyards only a few yards from the cabs and the 
crowd, where there is nobody but the dead people, who have 
grown tired of it all. From the top of the Hammersmith ’bus, 
as it went through the Strand that morning, I saw funny little 
openings that made me long to get down and look into them ; 
but I had my relation to think of, so I didn’t. 

Then there is the well-settled, well-founded look of every- 
thing, as if it had all come ages ago, and meant to stay for ever, 
and just go on the way it had before. We like that — the 
security and the permanence of it, which seems to be in some 
way connected with the big policemen, and the orderly crowd, 
and 4 Keep to the Left ’ on the signboards, and the British coat 
of arms over so many of the shops. I thought that morning 
that those shops were probably the property of the Crown, but 
I was very soon corrected about that. At home I am afraid we 
fluctuate considerably, especially in connection with cyclones 
and railway interests — we are here to-day, and there is no tell- 
ing where we shall be to-morrow. So the abiding kind of city 
gives us a comfortable feeling of confidence. It was not very 
long before even I, on the top of the Hammersmith ’bus, felt 
that I was riding an Institution, and no matter to what extent 
it wobbled it might be relied upon not to come down. 

I don’t know whether you will like our admiring you on 
account of your griminess, but we do. At home we are so 
monotonously clean, architecturally, that we can’t make any 
aesthetic pretensions whatever. There is nothing artistic about 
white brick. It is clean and neat and sanitary, but you get 
tired of looking at it, especially when it is made up in patterns 
with red brick mixed in. And since you must be dirty, it may 


32 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


gratify you to know that you are very soothing to Transatlantic 
nerves suffering from patterns like that. But you are also mis* 
leading. 4 I suppose,’ I said to a workman in front of me as we 
entered Fleet Street, 4 that is some old palace ? Do you know 
the date of it ? ’ 

4 No, miss,’ he answered, 4 that ain’t no palace. Them’s the 
new Law Courts, only built the last ten year ! ’ 

The new Law Courts ! 

4 The Strand ! ’ 4 Fleet Street ! ’ 4 Ludgate Hill ! 9 4 Cheap- 
side ! ’ and I was actually in those famous places, riding through 
them on a ’bus, part of their multitude. The very names on 
the street corners held fascination enough, and each of them gave 
me the separate little thrill of the altogether unexpected. I had 
unconsciously believed that all these names were part of the 
vanished past I had connected them with, forgetting that, in 
London names endure. But I began to feel that I ought to be 
arriving. 4 Conductor,’ I said, as he passed, 4 stop the ’bus, 
and let me get down at Half-Moon Street, Piccadilly.’ 

4 We’re goin’ strait awai from it, miss ; you get that red ’bus 
standin’ over there — that’ll taike you ! ’ 

So I went all the way back again, and on to my relation’s, 
on the top of the red ’bus, not at all regretting my mistake. 
But it made it almost twelve o’clock when I rang the bell — 
Mrs. Portheris’s bell — at the door of her house in ITalf-Moou 
Street, Piccadilly. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


33 


IV 

F ROM the outside I didn’t think much of Mrs. Portheris’s 
house. It was very tall, and very plain, and very narrow, 
and quite expressionless, except that it wore a sort of dirty brown 
frown. Like its neighbours, it had a well in front of it, and 
steps leading down into the well, and an iron fence round the 
steps, and a brass bell-handle lettered ‘ Tradesmen.’ Like its 
neighbours, too, it wore boxes of spotty black greenery on the 
window-sills — in fact, it was very like its neighbours, except 
that it had one or two solemn little black balconies that looked 
as if nobody ever sat in them running across the face of it, and 
a tall, shallow porch, with two or three extremely white stone 
steps before the front door. Half-Moon Street, to me, looked 
like a family of houses — a family differing in heights and 
complexions and the colour of its hair, but sharing all the 
characteristics of a family — of an old family. A person draws a 
great many conclusions from the outside of a house, and my 
conclusion from the outside of my relation’s house was that she 
couldn’t be very well off to be obliged to live in such a plain 
and gloomy locality, with c Tradesmen 9 on the ground-floor ; 
and I hoped they were not any noisy kind of tradesmen, such 
as shoemakers or carpenters, who would disturb her early in 
the morning. The clean-scrubbed stone steps reflected very 
favourably, I thought, upon Mrs. Portheris, and gave the 
house, in spite of its grimy, old-fashioned, cramped appearance, 


34 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 



* FROM THE OUTSIJDE I DIDN’T THINK MUCH OF MRS. PORTHERIS’S HOUSE ’ 



AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


35 


a look of respectability which redeemed it. But I did not see 
at any window, behind the spotty evergreens, the sweet, sad 
face of my relation, though there were a hand-organ and a 
monkey and a German band all operating within twenty yards 
of the house. 

I rang the bell. The door opened a great deal more 
quickly than you might imagine from the time I am taking to 
tell about it, and I was confronted by my first surprise in 
London. It was a man — a neat, smooth, pale, round-faced 
man in livery, rather fat and very sad. It was also Mrs. 
Portheris’s interior. This was very dark and very quiet, but 
what light there was fell richly, through a square, stained- 
glass window at the end of the hall, upon the red and blue of 
some old china above a door, and a collection of Indian spears, 
and a twisting old oak staircase that glowed with colour. Mrs. 
Portheris’s exterior had prepared me for something different. I 
did not know then that in London everything is a matter of the 
inside — I had not seen a Duchess living crowded up to her 
ears with other people’s windows. With us the outside counts 
so tremendously. An American duchess, if you can imagine 
such a person, would consider it only due to the fitness of 
things that she should have an imposing front yard, and at least 
room enough at the back for the clothes-lines. But this has 
nothing to do with Half-Moon Street. 

6 Does Mrs. Portheris live here ? 9 I asked, thinking it was 
just possible she might have moved. 

‘Yes, miss/ said the footman, with a subdued note of inter- 
rogation. 

I felt relieved. ‘ Is she — is she well ? ’ I inquired. 

‘ Quite well, miss/ he replied, with the note of interrogation 
a little more obvious. 


36 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


4 1 should like to see her. Is she in ?’ 

4 I’ll h’inquire, miss. ’Oo shall I sai, miss ? ’ 

I thought I would prepare my relation gradually. 4 A lady 
from Chicago/ said I. 

4 Very well, miss. Will you walk upstairs, miss ? 9 

In America drawing-rooms are on the ground-floor. I 
thought he wanted to usher me into Mrs. Portheris’s bedroom. 
4 No, sir/ I said ; c I’ll wait here.’ Then I thought of Mr. 
Mafferton, and of what he had said about saying 4 sir 5 to 
people, and my sensations were awful. I have never done it 
once since. 

The footman reappeared in a few minutes with a troubled 
and apologetic countenance. 4 Mrs. Portheris says as she doesn’t 
want anythink, miss ! I told her as I didn’t understand you 
were disposin’ of anythink ; but that was ’er message, miss.’ 

I couldn’t help laughing — it was so very funny to think of 
my being taken for a lady-pedlar in the house of my relation. 
4 I’m very glad she’s in/ I said. 4 That is quite a mistake ! 
Tell her it’s Miss Mamie Wick, daughter of Colonel Joshua P. 
Wick, of Chicago ; but if she’s lying down, or anything, I can 
drop in again.’ 

He was away so long that I began to wonder if my relation 
suspected me of dynamite in any form, and he came back look- 
ing more anxious than ever. 4 Mrs. Portheris says she’s very 
sorry, miss, and will you please to walk up ? 9 4 Certainly/ J 

said, 1 but I hope I won’t be disturbing her ! * 

And I walked up. 

It was a big square room, with a big square piano in it, and 
long lace curtains, and two or three gilt-framed mirrors, and a 
great many old-fashioned ornaments under glass cases, and a 
tinkling glass chandelier in the middle. There were several 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


37 


oil-paintings on the walls — low-necked portraits and landscapes, 
principally dark-green and black and yellow, with cows, and 
quantities of lovely china. The furniture was red brocade, with 
spindly legs, and there was a tall palm in a pot, which had 
nothing to do with the rest of the room, by itself in a corner. I 
remembered these things afterwards. At the time I noticed 
chiefly two young persons with the pinkest cheeks I ever saw, 



‘ THEY SAT UP VERY NICELY INDEED ’ 

out of a picture-book, sitting near a window. They were dressed 
exactly alike, and their hair hung down their backs to their 
waists, although they must have been seventeen ; and they sat 
up very nicely indeed 'on two of the red chairs, one occupied 
with worsted work, and the other apparently reading aloud to 
her, though she stopped when I came in. I have seen something 
since at Madame Tussaud’s — but I daresay you have often noticed 


38 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


it yourself. And standing in the middle of the room, with her 
hand on a centre- table, was Mrs. Portheris. 

My first impression was that she had been standing there for 
the last hour in that immovable way, with exactly that remark- 
able expression ; and it struck me that she could go on standing 
for the next without altering it, quite comfortably — she seemed 
to be so solidly placed there, with her hand upon the table. 
Though I wouldn’t call Mrs. Portheris stout, she was massive — 
rather, of an impressive build. Her skirt fell in a commanding 
way from her waist, though it hitched up a little in front, which 
spoiled the effect. She had broad square shoulders, and a lace 
collar, and a cap with pink ribbons in it, and grey hair smooth 
on each side of her face, and large well-cut features, and the ex- 
pression I spoke of. I’ve seen the expression since among the 
Egyptian antiquities in the British Museum, but I am unable to 
describe it. 4 Armed neutrality ’ is the only phrase that occurs to 
me in connection with it, and that by no means does it justice. 
For there was curiosity in it, as well as hostility and reserve — 
but I won’t try. And she kept her hand — it was her right hand 
— upon the table. 

4 Miss Wick,’ she said, bowing, and dwelling upon the name 
with strong doubt. 4 1 believe I have a connection of that name 
in America. Is your father’s name Joshua Peter ? ’ 

4 Yes, Mrs. Portheris,’ I replied ; 4 and he says he is your 
nephew. I’ve just come. How do you do?’ I said this be- 
cause it was the only thing the situation seemed to warrant me 
saying. 

4 Oh, I am quite in my usual health, thank you ! My 
nephew by marriage — a former marriage — a very distant con- 
nection.’ 

4 Three thousand five hundred miles,’ said I ; 4 he lives in 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


39 


Chicago. You have never been over to see us, Mrs. Portheris.’ 
At this point I walked across to one of the spindly red chairs 
and sat down. I thought then that she had forgotten to ask 
me ; but even now, when I know she hadn’t, I am not at all 



* THE OLD LADY GATHERED HERSELF UP AND LOOKED AT ME * 

sorry I sat down. I find it is possible to stand up too much in 
this country. 

The old lady gathered herself up and looked at me. c Where 
are your father and mother ? ’ she said. 

4 


\o AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 

c In Chicago, Mrs. Portheris. All very well, thank yon ! 1 

had a cable from them this morning, before I left the hotel. 
Kind regards to you.’ 

Mrs. Portheris looked at me in absolute silence. Then she 
deliberately arranged her back draperies and sat down too — not 
in any amiable way, but as if the situation must be faced. 

4 Margaret and Isabel/ she said to the two young pink per- 
sons, 4 go to your rooms, dears ! 5 And she waited till the 
damsels, each with a little shy smile and blush, gathered up 
their effects and went, before she continued the conversation. 
As they left the room I observed that they wore short dresses, 
buttoned down the back. It began to grow very interesting to 
me, after the first shock of finding this kind of relation was 
over. I found myself waiting for what was to come next with 
the deepest interest. In America we are very fond of types — 
perhaps because we have so few among ourselves — and it seemed 
to me, as I sat there on Mrs. Portheris’s spindly red chair, that 
I had come into violent contact with a type of the most valuable 
and pronounced description. Privately I resolved to stay as 
long as I could, and lose no opportunity of observing it. And 
my first observation was that Mrs. Portheris’s expression was 
changing — losing its neutrality and beginning to radiate active 
opposition and stern criticism, with an uncompromising sense 
of duty twisted in at the corners of the mouth. There was no 
agitation whatever, and I thought with an inward smile of my 
relation’s nerves. 

4 Then I suppose,’ said Mrs. Portheris — the supposition being 
of the vaguest possible importance — 4 that you are with a party 
of Americans. It seems to be an American idea to go about in 
hordes. I never could understand it — to me it would be most 
obnoxious. How many are there of you ? ’ 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


4i 


4 One, Mrs. Portheris — and I'm the one. Poppa and momma 
had set their hearts on coming. Poppa thought of getting up 
an Anglo-American Soda Trust, and momma wanted particularly 
to make your acquaintance — your various Christmas cards have 
given us all such a charming idea of you — but at the last 
minute something interfered with their plans and they had to 
give it up. They told me to tell you how sorry they were.’ 

c Something interfered with their plans ! But nothing 
interfered with your plans ! ’ 

4 Oh, no ; it was some political business of poppa’s — nothing 
to keep me ! ’ 

4 Then do I actually understand that your parents, of their 
own free will , permitted you to cross the Atlantic alone? 9 

4 1 hope you do, Mrs. Portheris ; but if it’s not quite clear to 
you, I don’t mind explaining it again.’ 

4 Upon my word ! And you are at an hotel — which hotel ? ’ 

When I told Mrs. Portheris the Metropole, her indigna- 
tion mounted to her cap, and one of the pink ribbons shook 
violently. 

4 It is very American!’ she said; and I felt that Mrs. 
Portheris could rise to no more forcible a climax of disapproval. 

But I did not mind Mrs. Portheris’s disapproval ; in fact, 
according to my classification of her, I should have been 
disappointed if she had not disapproved— it would have been 
out of character. So I only smiled as sweetly as I could, and 
said, 4 So am I.’ 

4 Is it not very expensive?’ There was a note of angry 
wonder as well as horror in this. 

4 1 don’t know, Mrs. Portheris. It’s very comfortable.’ 

1 1 never heard of such a thing in my life ! ’ said Mrs. 
Portheris. 4 It’s — it’s ' outrageous ! It’s — it’s not customary! 


42 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


I call it criminal lenience on the part of my nephew to allow it. 
He must have taken leave of his senses ! * 

i Don’t say anything nasty about poppa, Mrs. Portheris,* I 
remarked ; and she paused. 

4 As to your mother ’ 

4 Momma is a lady of great intelligence and advanced views,* 
I interrupted, 4 though she isn’t very strong. And she is very 
well acquainted with me.’ 

4 Advanced views are your ruin in America ! May I ask 
how you found your way here ? ’ 

4 On a ’bus, Mrs. Portheris — the red Hammersmith kind. On 
two ’buses, rather, because I took the wrong one first, and went 
miles straight away from here ; but I didn’t mind it — I liked it.* 
4 In an omnibus I suppose you mean. You couldn’t very 
well be on it, unless you went on the top ! * And Mrs. Portheris 
smiled rather derisively. 

4 1 did ; I went on the top,’ I returned calmly. 4 And it 
was lovely.’ 

Mrs. Portheris very nearly lost her self-control in her effort 
to grasp this enormity. Her cap bristled again, and the muscles 
round her mouth twitched quite perceptibly. 

4 Careering all over London on the top of an omnibus ! ’ she 
ejaculated. 4 Looking for my house ! And in that frock ! ’ I 
felt about ten when she talked about my 4 frock.’ 4 Couldn't 
you feel that you were altogether too smart for such a position ? ’ 
4 No, indeed, Mrs. Portheris ! ’ I replied, unacquainted with 
the idiom. 4 When I got down off the first omnibus in Cheap- 
side 1 felt as if I hadn’t been half smart enough ! ’ 

She did not notice my misunderstanding. By the time I 
had finished my sentence she was rapping the table with sup- 
pressed excitement. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


43 


‘ Miss Wick ! ’ she said — and I had expected her to call me 
Mamie, and say I was the image of poppa ! — ‘ you are the 
daughter of my nephew — which can hardly be called a connec- 
tion at all — but on that account I will give you a piece of 
advice. The top of an omnibus is not a proper place for you — 
I might say, for any connection of mine, however distant ! I 
would not feel that I was doing my duty toward my nephew’s 
daughter if I did not tell you that you must not go there ! 
Don’t on any account do it again ! It is a thing people never 
do!’ 

‘ Do they upset ? ’ I asked. 

‘They might. But apart from that, I must ask you, on 
personal — on family grounds — always to go inside. In Chicago 
you may go outside as much as you like, but in London ’ 

‘Oh, no ! ’ I interrupted, ‘ I wouldn’t for the world — in 
Chicago ! ’ which Mrs. Portheris didn’t seem to understand. 

I had stayed dauntlessly for half an hour — I was so much 
interested in Mrs. Portheris — and I began to feel my ability to 
prolong the interview growing weaker. I was sorry — I would 
have given anything to have heard her views upon higher 
education and female suffrage, and the Future State and the 
Irish Question ; but it seemed impossible to get her thoughts 
away from the appalling Impropriety which I, on her spindly 
red chair, represented. I couldn’t blame her for that — I sup- 
pose no impropriety bigger than a spider had ever got into her 
drawing-room before. So I got up to go. Mrs. Portheris also 
rose, with majesty. I think she wanted to show me what, if I 
had been properly brought up, I might have expected reasonably 
to develop into She stood in the midst of her red brocaded 
furniture, with her hands folded, a model of what bringing up 
can do if it is unflinchingly persevered in, and all the mirrors 


44 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


reflected the ideal she presented. I felt, beside her, as if I had 
never been brought up at all. 

c Have you any friends in London ? ’ she asked, with a very 
weak solution of curiosity in her tone, giving me her hand to 
facilitate my going, and immediately ringing the bell. 

‘ I think not/ I said with decision. 

‘ But you will not continue to stay at the Metropole ! I beg 
that you will not remain another day at the Metropole ! It is 
not usual for young ladies to stay at hotels. You must go to 
some place where only ladies are received, and as soon as you 
are settled in one communicate at once with the rector of the 
parish — alone as you are, that is quite a necessary step. Lights 
and fires will probably be extra.'* 

c I thought/ said I, 4 of going to the Lady Guides’ Associa- 
tion — we have heard of it in Chicago through some friends, 
who went round every day for three weeks with lady-guides, 
and found it simply fascinating — and asking them to get me a 
private family to board with. I particularly wished to see what 
a private family is like in England.’ 

Mrs. Portheris frowned. 4 I could never bring myself to 
approve of lady-guides,’ she said. 4 There is something in the 
idea that is altogether too — American.' I saw that the conver- 
sation was likely to grow personal again, so I said : 4 Well, 
good-bye, Mrs. Portheris!’ and was just going, when 4 Stop!’ 
said my relation, 4 there is Miss Purkiss.’ 

4 Is there ? ’ said I. 

‘ Certainly — the very thing ! Miss Purkiss is a very old 
friend of mine, in reduced circumstances. I’ve known her 
thirty-five years. She is an excellent woman, with the most 
trustworthy views upon all matters. In so far as our widely 
diiierent social positions have permitted, Miss Purkiss and I 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


45 


have been on terms, I may say, of sisterly intimacy since before 
you were born. She has no occupation now, having lost her 
position as secretary to the Home for Incurable Household Pets 
through ill-health, and a very limited income. She lives in an 
excessively modest way in Upper Baker Street — very convenient 
to both the omnibuses and Underground — and if you cast in 



your lot with hers while you are in England, Miss Wick ’ — here 
Mrs. Portheris grew almost demonstrative — ‘ you need never 
go out alone. I need not say that she is a lady, but her cir- 
cumstances will probably necessitate her asking you rather 
more than the usual rate for board and lodging, in compensa- 


46 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


tion for her chaperonage and companionship. All I can say is, 
that both will be very thorough. I will give you Miss Purkiss’s 
address at once, and if you drive there immediately you will be 
sure to find her in. John, call a hansom ! 5 And Mrs. Portheris 
went to her writing-table and wrote the address. 

c There ! 5 she said, folding it up and giving it to me. 4 By 
all means try to arrange with Miss Purkiss, and she, being a 
friend of my own, some afternoon, perhaps — I must think about 
it — I may ask her to bring you to tea ! Good-bye ! 5 



‘ SPENT HALF AN HOUR IN THE MIDST OF MY TRUNKS ’ 


As the door closed behind me I heard Mrs. Portheris's voice 
on the landing. ‘ Margaret and Isabel , 5 it said, ‘ you may come 
down now ! 5 

6 Ware to, miss ? 5 said the driver. 

4 Hotel Metropole , 5 said I. And as we turned into Piccadilly 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


47 


a little flutter of torn white paper went back on the wind to 
Mrs. Portheris. It was Miss Purkiss’s address. 

After lunch I made careful notes of Mrs. Portheris, and 
then spent half an hour in the midst of my trunks, looking in 
the ‘ Board and Lodging ’ column of the £ Morning Post ’ for 
accommodation which promised to differ as radically as possible 
from Miss Purkiss’s. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 




V 

M Y principal idea was to get away as soon as possible from the 
Metropole. So long as I was located there I was within the 
grasp of my relation ; and as soon as she found out my insub- 
ordination in the matter of her advice, I had no doubt whatever 
that my relation would appear, with Miss Purkiss, all in rusty 
black, behind her — a contingency I wished to avoid. Miss 
Purkiss, I reflected, would probably be another type, and types 
were interesting, but not to live with — my relation had con- 
vinced me of that. And as to Mrs. Portheris herself, while I 
had certainly enjoyed what I had been privileged to see of her, 
her society was a luxury regarding which I felt that I could 
evercise considerable self-denial. I did not really contemplate 
being forced into Miss Purkiss and Upper Baker Street by Mrs. 
Portheris against my will, not for a moment ; but I was afraid 
the situation would be presented on philanthropic grounds, 
which would be disagreeable. Miss Purkiss as a terror I felt 
equal to, but Miss Purkiss as an object of charity might cow me. 
And Miss Purkiss in any staying capacity was not, I felt, what 
I came to Great Britain to experience. So I studied the 
columns of the 4 Morning Post ’ diligently for a haven of refuge 
from Miss Purkiss. 

I found it difficult to make a selection, the havens were so 
very different, and all so superior. I believe you talk about the 
originality of American advertising. I never in my life saw a 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


49 


newspaper page to compare in either imagination or vocabulary 
with the one I scanned that day at the Metropole. It seemed 
that I could be taken all over London, at prices varying from 
one 4 g.’ to three 4 gs. ’ per week, although the surprising 
cheapness of this did not strike me until I had laboriously 
calculated in dollars and cents the exact value of a 4 g.’ I 
know now that it is a term of English currency exclusively 
employed in Bond Street, Piccadilly, Regent and Oxford Streets 
— they never give you a price there in any other. And the 
phrases descriptive of the various homes which were awaiting 
me were so beautiful. 4 Excellent meat breakfast/ 4 a liberal 
and charmingly-refined home/ 4 a mother’s devoted super- 
vision/ 4 fresh young society/ 4 fashionably situated and ele- 
gantly furnished/ ‘just vacated by a clergyman/ 4 foreign 
languages understood ’ — which would doubtless include American 
— 4 a lofty standard of culture in this establishment/ I 
wondered if they kept it under glass. I was struck with the 
number of people who appeared in print with 4 offerings ’ of a 
domiciliary nature. 4 A widow lady of cheerful temperament 

and artistic tastes offers ’ 4 The daughter of a late Civil 

Servant with a larger house than she requires offers ’ This 

must have been a reference put in to excite sympathy, other- 
wise, what was the use of advertising the gentleman after he was 
dead ? Even from the sympathetic point of view, I think it was 
a mistake, for who would care to go and settle in a house the 
minute the crape was off the door? Nobody. 

Not only original advertisements of the kind I was looking 
for, but original advertisements of kinds I wasn’t looking for, 
appealed to my interest and took up my time that afternoon. 

4 Would any one feel disposed to lend an actress five pounds ? c 
4 Temporary home wanted, with a family of quiet habits, in a 


5 ° 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


healthful neighbourhood, who can give best references, for a 
Persian cat.’ 4 An elderly country rector and his wife, in town 
for a month’s holiday, would be glad of a little pleasant society.’ 
c A young subaltern, of excellent family, in unfortunate circum - 
stances, implores the loan of a hundred pounds to save him from 
ruin. Address, care of his solicitors.’ 4 A young gentleman, 
handsome, an orphan, of good education and agreeable address, 
wishes to meet with elderly couple with means (inherited) who 
would adopt him. Would make himself pleasant in the house. 
Church of England preferred, but no serious objection to Non- 
conformists.’ 

We have nothing like this in America. It was a revelation 
to me — a most private and intimate revelation of a social body 
that I had always been told no outsider could look into without 
the very best introductions. Of course, there was the veil of 
c A. B.’ and 4 Lurline,’ and the solicitors’ address, but that seemed 
as thin and easily torn as the 4 Morning Post,’ and much more 
transparent, showing all the struggling mass, with its hands 
outstretched, on the other side. And yet I have heard English 
people say how 4 personal ’ our newspapers are ! 

My choice was narrowed considerably by so many of the 
addresses being other places than London, which I thought 
very peculiar in a London newspaper. Having come to see 
London, I did not want to live in Putney, or Brixton, or 
Chelsea, or Maida Yale. I supposed vaguely that there must be 
cathedrals or Roman remains, or attractions of some sort, in 
these places, or they would not be advertised in London ; but 
for the time being, at any rate, I intended to content myself 
with the capital. So I picked out two or three places near the 
British Museum — I should be sure, I thought, to want to 
spend a great deal of time there — and went to see about them. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


5i 


They were as much the same as the advertisements were 
different, especially from the outside. From the outside they 
were exactly alike — so much so that I felt, after I had seen them 
all, that if another boarder in the same row chose to approach 
me on any occasion, and say that she was me, I should be entirely 
unable to contradict her. This in itself was prejudicial. In 
America, if there is one thing we are particular about, it is our 
identity. Without our identities we are in a manner nowhere. 
I did not feel disposed to run the risk of losing mine the minute 
I arrived in England, especially as I knew that it is a thing 
Americans who stay here for any length of time are extremely 
apt to do. Nevertheless, I rang the three door-bells I left the 
Metropole with the intention of ringing ; and there were some 
minor differences inside, although my pen insists upon record- 
ing the similarities instead. I spent the same length of time 
upon the doorstep, for instance, before the same tumbled and 
apologetic-looking servant girl appeared, wiping her hands upon 
her apron, and let me into the same little dark hall, with the 
same interminable stairs twisting over themselves out of it, and 
the smell of the same dinner accompanying us all the way up. 
To be entirely just, it was a wholesome dinner, but there was so 
much of it in the air that I very soon felt as if I was dining 
unwarrantably, and ought to pay for it. In every case the stair- 
carpet went up two flights, and after that there was oilcloth, 
rather forgetful as to its original pattern, and much frayed as to 
its edges — and after that, nothing. Always pails and brushes on 
1 lie landings — what there is about pails and brushes that should 
make them such a distinctive feature of boarding-house landings 
I don’t know, but they are. Not a single elevator in all three. 
I asked the servant-girl in the first place, about half-way up the 
fourth flight, if there was no elevator ? ‘ No, indeed, miss,’ she said ; 


52 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


c I wishes there was ! But them’s things you won't find but very 
seldom ’ere. We’ve ’ad American ladies ’ere before, and they 
alius asks for ’em, but they soon finds out they ain’t to be ’ad, 
miss.’ 

Now, how did she know I was an ‘American lady’? I 
didn’t really mind about the elevator, but this I found annoy- 
ing, in spite of my desire to preserve my identity. In 
the course of conversation with this young woman, I dis- 
covered that it was not my own possibly prospective dinner 
that I smelt on the stairs. I asked about the hour for meals. 
‘ Aou, we never gives meals, miss ! ’ she said. 4 It’s only them 
boardin’ ’aouses as gives meals in ! Mrs. Jones, she only lets 
apartments. But there’s a very nice restirong in Tottinim 
Court Road, quite convenient, an’ your breakfast, miss, you 
could ’ave cooked ’ere, but, of course, it would be hextra, miss.’ 

Then I remembered all I had read about people in London 
living in 4 lodgings,’ and having their tea and sugar and butter 
and eggs consumed unrighteously by the landlady, who was 
always represented as a buxom person in calico, with a smut on 
her face, and her arms akimbo, and an awful hypocrite. For a 
minute I thought of trying it, for the novelty of the experience, 
but the loneliness of it made me abandon the idea. I could 
not possibly content myself with the society of a coal-scuttle and 
two candlesticks, and the alternative of going round sightseeing 
by myself. Nor could I in the least tell whether Mrs. Jones 
was agreeable, or whether I could expect her to come up and 
visit with me sometimes in the evenings ; besides, if she always 
wore smuts and had her arms akimbo, I shouldn’t care about 
asking her. In America a landlady might as likely as not be a 
member of a Browning Society, and give 4 evenings,’ but that 
kind of landlady seems indigenous to the United States. And 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


53 


after Mrs. Portheris, I felt that I required the companic uship of 
something human. 

In the other two places I saw the landladies themselves in 
their respective drawing-rooms on the second floor. One of 
the drawing-rooms was c draped ’ in a way that was quite 
painfully aesthetic, considering the paucity of the draperies. 
The flower-pots were draped, and the lamps ; there were 
draperies round the piano-legs, and round the clock ; and where 
there were not draperies there were bows, all of the same 
scanty description. The only thing that had not made an effort 
to clothe itself in the room was the poker, and by contrast it 
looked very nude. There were some Japanese ideas around the 
room, principally a paper umbrella ; and a big painted palm-leaf 
fan from India made an incident in one corner. I thought, 
even before I saw the landlady, that it would be necessary to 
live up to a high standard of' starvation in that house, and she 
confirmed the impression. She was a Miss Hippy, a short, 
stoutish person, with very smooth hair, thin lips, and a nose like 
an angle of the Pyramids, preternaturally neat in her appear- 
ance, with a long gold watch-chain round her neck. She came 
into the room in a way that expressed reduced circumstances 
and a protest against being obliged to do it. I feel that the 
particular variety of smile she gave me with her ‘ Good 
morning ! ’ — although it was after 4 P.M. — was one she kept 
for the use of boarders only, and her whole manner was an 
interrogation. When she said, ‘ Is it for yourself ?J in answer 
to my question about rooms, I felt that I was undergoing 
a cross-examination, the result of which Miss Hippy was men- 
tally tabulating. 

‘ We have a few rooms/ said Miss Hippy, c certainly.’ Then 
she cast her eyes upon the floor, and twisted her fingers up in 


54 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


her watch-chain, as if in doubt. ‘Shall you be long in 
London ? ’ 

I said I couldn’t tell exactly. 

4 Have you — are you a professional of any kind ? 9 inquired 
Miss Hippy. 4 Not that I object to professional ladies — they 
are often very pleasant. Madame Solfreno resided here for 
several weeks while she was retrenching ) but Madame Solfreno 
was, of course, more or less an exceptional woman. She did 
not care — at least, while she was retrenching — for the society of 
other professionals, and she said that was the great advantage of 
my house — none of them ever would come here. Still, as I say, 
I have no personal objection to professionals. In fact, we have 
had head-ladies here ; and real ladies, I must say, I have gene- 
rally found them. Although hands, of course, I would not 
take ! ’ 

I said I was not a professional. 

4 Oh!’ said Miss Hippy, pitiably baffled. ‘Then, perhaps, 
you are not a — a young lady. That is, of course, one can see 
you are that ; but you are — you are married, perhaps ? ’ 

4 1 am not married, madame,’ I said. 4 Have you any rooms 
to let ? ’ 

Miss Hippy rose, ponderingly. ‘ I might as well show you 
what we have, she said. 

4 1 think,’ I replied, 4 that you might as well. Otherwise I 
will not detain you any longer.’ At which, curiously enough, 
all hesitation vanished from Miss Hippy’s manner, and she 
showed me all her rooms, and expatiated upon all their advan- 
tages with a single eye to persuading me to occupy one of them. 
So comprehensively voluble was she, indeed, and so impene- 
trably did she fill up the door with her broad person when we 
came down again, that I found no loophole of escape anywhere, 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


55 


and was obliged to descend to equivocal measures. 4 Have 
you any rooms, Miss Hippy/ I inquired, 4 on the ground 
floor ? ’ 

4 That/ returned Miss Hippy, as if I had put her the only 
possible question that she was not prepared for, 4 1 have not. A 
gentleman from the West Indies ’ — Miss Hippy went on im- 
pressively — 4 hardly ever without inflammatory rheumatism, 
which you will admit makes stairs an impossibility for him, 
occupies my only ground-floor bedroom — just off the dining- 
room ! * 

4 That is unfortunate/ I said, 4 since I think in this house I 
would prefer a room on the ground- floor. But if I decide to 
take one of the others I will let you know, Miss Hippy.’ 

Miss Hippy’s countenance fell, changed, and again became 
expressive of doubt — this time offensively. 

4 I’ve not asked for any references/ though, of course, it is my 
custom ’ 

4 You will receive references/ I interrupted, 4 as soon as you 
require them. Good afternoon!’ We were standing in the 
hall, and Miss Hippy, from force of circumstances, was obliged 
to unfasten the door ; but I did not hear from her, as I passed 
out into the street, any responsive 4 Good afternoon ! ’ 

My third experience was quite antipodal to Miss Hippy. 
Her parlour was Japanesy, too, in places, but it was mostly 
chipped ; and it had a great many rather soiled fat cushions in 
it, quite a perceptible odour of beer and tobacco, and a pair of 
gentleman’s worked slippers under the sofa. The atmosphere 
was relaxing after Miss Hippy, and suggested liberality of all 
sorts; but the slippers, to say nothing of the odours, which 
might have floated in from other regions, made it impossible. I 
waited for the lady of the house a conscious hypocrite. 

5 




56 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 

She came in at last voluminously, rather out of breath, but 
with great warmth of manner. 4 Do sit down ! ’ she said. 



‘Now, it does seem strange ! Only las’ night, at the table, we 
were sayin’ how much we wanted one more lady boarder ! You 




AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


57 


see, IVe got four young gentlemen in the City here, and of us 
ladies there’s just four, so we sometimes get up a little dance 
amongst ourselves in the evenin’s. It amuses the young people, 
and much better wear out carpets than pay doctors’ bills, say I. 
Now, I generally play, an’ that leaves only three ladies for the 
four gentlemen, you see ! Now, isn’t it a curious coincidence/ 
she said, leaning forward with a broad and confident smile, 
‘ that you should have come in to-day, j ust after we were sayin’ 
how nice it would be if there were enough to get up the 
Lancers ! 9 

I bowed my acknowledgments. 

4 You want a room for yourself, I suppose/ my hostess went 
on, cheerfully. 4 My top flat, I’m sorry to say, is every bit 
taken. There isn’t an inch of room up there ; but I’ve got a 
beautiful little apartment on the ground-floor you could use as 
a bed-sittin’ room, lookin’ out on what green grass we have. 
I’ll show it to you ! ’ — and she led me across the hall to a dis~ 
mantled cupboard, the door of which she threw open. 4 That/ 
she said, 4 you could have for twenty-five shillin’s a week. Of 
course, it is small, but then — so is the price ! ’ and she smiled the 
cheerful, accustomed smile that went with the joke. 4 I’ve another 
up here/ she said, leading the way to the first landing, c rather 
bigger — thirty shillin’s. You see, they’re both bein’ turned out 
at present, so it’s rather unfavourable ! ’ — and the lady drew in 
the deep breath she had lost going up the stairs. 

I could think of only one thing to say : 4 1 believe you said 
your top flat was all taken/ 1 remarked amiably. She was such 
a good-natured soul, I couldn’t bear to say anything that would 
hurt her feelings. 4 That is unfortunate. I particularly wanted 
a room in a top flat. But if I decide on one of these others I’ll 
let you know ! ’ There were two fibs, and diametrically opposed 


53 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


fibs, within half an hour, and I know it’s excessively wrong to 
fib ; but, under the circumstances, what could you say ? 

‘ Do, miss. And, though I wouldn’t for the world persuade 
you, I certainly hope you will, for I’m sure you’d make a very 
pleasant addition to our party. I’ll just let you out myself.’ 
Amd she did. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


59 


VI 

I DROVE straight back to the Metropole, very thankful indeed 
that that was evidently the thing to do next. If there had 
been no evident thing to do next, I was so depressed in my mind 
that I think I would have taken a ticket to Liverpool that night, 
and my passage to New York on the first steamer that was leaving. 
I won’t say what I did in the cab, but I spoilt a perfectly new 
veil doing it. London seemed dingy and noisy, and puzzling 
and unattractive, and always going to rain. I thought of our 
bright clear air in Chicago, and our nice clean houses, and our 
street-cars, and our soda-water fountains, and poppa and momma, 
and always knowing everybody and what to do under every 
circumstance ; and all the way to the Metropole I loved Chicago 
and I hated London. But there was the Metropole, big and solid 
and luxurious, and a fact I understood ; and there was the nice 
respectful housemaid on my corridor — it would be impossible to 
convince you how different servants are with us — and a delight- 
ful little fire in my room, and a tin pitcher of hot water smoking 
in the basin, and a sort of air of being personally looked aftei 
that was very comforting to my nerves. While I was getting 
ready for dinner I analysed my state of mind, and blamed my- 
self severely, for I found that I could not justify one of the dis- 
agreeable things I had been thinking in any philosophical way. 
I had simply allowed the day’s experiences, capped by my rela- 
tion in the morning, to overcome my entire nerve-system, which 


6o 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


was childish and unreasonable. I wished then, and often sinca^ 
that Providence had given us a more useful kind of nerve- 
system on our side of the Atlantic — something constructed 
solidly, on the British plan ; and just as I was wishing that there 
came a rap. A rap has comparatively no significance until it 
comes at your bedroom door when you are alone in a big hotel 
two thousand five hundred miles from home. Then it means 
something. This one meant two cards on a salver and a mes- 
sage. One of the cards read : 4 Mrs. Cummers Portheris ,’ with 
4 Miss Purkiss ’ written under it in pencil ; the other, 4 Mr. 
Charles Mafferton ,’ with 4 49, Hertford Street , Mayfair ,’ in one 
corner, and 4 The Isthmian Club ’ in the other. 

4 Is she there now ? 9 I asked the servant in acute suspense. 

4 No, miss. The ladies, they called about ’alf-past three, 
and we was to say that one lady was to be ’ere again to-morrow 
mornin’ at ten, miss. The gentleman, he didn’t leave no mes- 
sage.’ 

Then my heart beat again, and joyfully, for I knew that I 
had missed my relation and Miss Purkiss, and that the way of 
escape was still open to me, although ten o’clock in the morning 
was rather early to be obliged to go out. I must say I thought 
it extremely foolish of Miss Purkiss to have mentioned the hour 
— it was like a fox making an appointment with a rabbit, a 
highly improbable thing for the rabbit to keep. And I went 
downstairs feeling quite amused and happy, and determined to 
stay amused and happy. My unexpected reward for this came 
at dinner, when I discovered my neighbours to be two delight- 
ful ladies from St. Paul, Minn., with whom I conversed sociably 
there, and later in the drawing-room. They had known Dr. 
Oliver Wendell Holmes ; but what to my eyes gave them an 
added charm was their amiable readiness to know me. I wad 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


61 


made to promise that I would send them my address when I 
was settled, and to this day I suffer from unquieted pangs of 
conscience because I failed to keep my word. 

By ten o’clock next morning I was in Cockspur Street, Pall 
Mall, looking for the ‘ Lady Guides’ Association.’ The name in 
white letters on the window struck me oddly when I found it. 
The idea, the institution it expressed, seemed so grotesquely of 
to-day there in the heart of old London, where almost everything 
you see talks of orthodoxy and the approval of the centuries. 
It had the impertinence that a new building has going up among 
your smoky old piles of brick and mortar. You will understand 
my natural sympathy with it. The minute I went in I felt at 
home. 

There were several little desks in several little adjoining 
compartments, with little muslin curtains in front of them, and 
ladies and ink-bottles inside, like a row of shrouded canary- 
cages. Two or three more ladies, without their things on, were 
running round outside, and several others, with their' things on, 
were being attended to. I saw only one little man, who was 
always getting out of the ladies’ way, and didn’t seem properly 
to belong there. There was no label attached, so 1 couldn’t tell 
what use they made of him, but I should like to have known. 

The desks were all lettered plainly — one 4 Lady Guides,’ the 
next 4 Tickets for the Theatre,’ and so on ; but, of course, I went 
to the first one to inquire, without taking any notice of that — 
people always do. I think, perhaps, the lady was more polite 
in referring me to the proper one than the man would have been. 
She smiled, and bowed encouragingly as she did it, and explained 
particularly, 4 the lady with the eyeglasses and her hair done up 
high — do you see ? ’ I saw, and went to the right lady. She 
smiled, too, in a real winning way, looking up from her entry- 


62 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


book, and leaning forward to hear what I had to say. Then she 
came into my confidence, as it were, at once. 4 What you want/ 
she said, 4 is a boarding-house or private hotel. We have all 
the best private hotels on our books, but in your case, being 
alone, what I should advise would be a thoroughly well-recom- 
mended, first-class boarding-house.’ 

I said something about a private family — 4 Or a private 
family/ added the lady, acquiescently. 4 Now, we can give you 
whichever you prefer. Suppose/ she said, with the kindly 
interested counsel of good-fellowship, dropping her voice a little, 
4 1 write you out several addresses of both kinds , then you can 
just see for yourself’ — and the lady looked at me over her eye- 
glasses most agreeably. 

4 Why, yes ! ’ I said. 4 1 think that’s a very good idea ! 9 

‘Well now, just wait a minute ! ’ the lady said, turning over 
the pages of another big book. 4 There’s a great deal, as you 
probably know, in locality in London. We must try and get 
you something in a nice locality. Piccadilly, for instance, is a 
very favourite locality — I think we have something in Half- 
Moon Street 5 

4 Gracious ! 9 1 said. 4 No ! not Half-Moon Street, please. I 
—I’ve been there. I don’t like that locality ! ’ 

4 Really ! ’ said the lady, with surprise. 4 Well, you wouldn’t 
believe what the rents are in Half-Moon Street ! But we can 
easily give you something else — the other side of the Park, 
perhaps ! ’ 

4 Yes/ I said, earnestly. 4 Quite the other side, if you 
please ! ’ 

4 Well/ returned the lady, abstractedly running her finger 
down the page, 4 there's Mrs. Pragge, in Holland Park Gardens 
^have you any objection to children ? — and Miss Ckmblewell, 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


63 


in Lancaster Gate, very clean and nice. I think we’ll put them 
down. And then two or three private ones — excuse me one 
minute. There ! I think among those,’ with sudden gravity, 

4 you ought to find something suitable at from two to three-and- 
a-half guineas per week ; but if you do not, be sure to come in 
again. We always like to give our clients satisfaction.’ The 
lady smiled again in that pardonable, endearing way ; and I was 
so pleased with her, and with myself, and with the situation, and 
felt such warm comfort as the result of the interview, that I 
wanted badly to shake hands with her when I said Good-morn- 
ing. But she was so engaged that I couldn’t, and had to content 
myself with only saying it very cordially. As I turned to 
go I saw a slightly blank expression come over her face, and 
she coughed with some embarrassment, leaning forward as if to 
speak to me again. But I was too near the door, so one of the 
ladies who were running about detained me apologetically. 
‘There is a — a charge,’ she said, 4 of two-and-sixpence. You 
did not know.’ So I went back uncomfortably and paid. 
4 Thanks, yes ! ’ said the lady in the cage. 4 Two-and-six ! No, 
that is two shillings, a florin, you see — and that is four — it’s 
half-a-crown we want, isn’t it ? ’ very amiably, considering all the 
trouble I was giving her. 4 Perhaps you are not very well 
accustomed to our English currency yet,’ as I finally counted 
out one shilling, two sixpences, a threepence, and six half- 
pennies. If there is a thing in this country that needs reform- 
ing more than the House of Lords — but there, it isn’t to be 
supposed that you would like my telling you about it. At all 
events, I managed in the end to pay my very proper fee to the 
Lady Guides’ Association, and I sincerely hope that any of its 
members who may happen to read this chapter will believe that I 
never endeavoured to evade it. The slight awkwardness of the 


6 4 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


mistake turned out rather pleasantly for me, because it led me 
into further conversation with the lady behind the eyeglasses, 
in which she asked me whether I wouldn’t like to look over 
their establishment. I said Yes, indeed ; and one of the outside 
ladies, a very capable-looking little person, with a round face 
and short, curly hair, was told off to take me upstairs. I 
hadn’t been so interested for a long time. There was the club- 
room, where ladies belonging to the Association could meet or 
make appointments with other people, or write letters or read 
the papers, and the restaurant, where they could get anything 
they wanted to eat. I am telling you all this because I’ve met 
numbers of people in London who only know enough about the 
Lady Guides’ Association to smile when it is mentioned, and to 
say, ‘ Did you go there ? ’ in a tone of great amusement, which, 
considering it is one of your own institutions, strikes me as 
curious. And it is such an original, personal, homelike institu- 
tion, like a little chirping busy nest between the eaves of the 
great unconcerned City offices and warehouses, that it is interest- 
ing to know more about than that, I think. The capable 
little lady seemed quite proud of it as she ushered me from one 
room into the next, and especially of the bedrooms, which were 
divided from one another by pretty chintz hangings, and where 
at least four ladies, ‘ arriving strange from the country, and else- 
where,’ could be tucked away for the night. That idea struck 
me as perfectly sweet, and I wished very sincerely I had known 
of it before. It seemed to offer so many more advantages than 
the Metropole. Of course, I asked any number of questions 
about the scope and working of the Association, and the little 
lady answered them all with great fluency. It was nice to hear 
of such extended usefulness — how the Lady Guides engage 
governesses, or servants, or seats at the theatre, and provide 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


65 


dinners and entertainments, and clothes to wear at them, and 
suitable manners ; and take care of children by the day — I do 
not remember whether the little lady said they undertook to 
bring them up — and furnish eyes and understanding, certified, 
to all visitors in London, at 4 a fixed tariff’ — all except gentle- 
men unaccompanied by their families. 4 Such clients/ the little 
lady said, with a shade of sadness, I fancied, that there should 
be any limitation to the benevolence of the Association, 4 the 
Lady Guide is compelled to decline. It is a great pity — we 
have so many gentleman-applicants, and there would be, of 
course, no necessity for sending young lady-guides out with 
them — we have plenty of elderly ones, widows and so on ; but ’ 
— and here the little lady grew confidentially deprecating — 4 it 
is thought best not to. You see, it would get into the papers, 
and the papers might chaff, and, of course, in our position we 
can’t afford to be made ridiculous. But it is a great pity ! ’ — and 
the little lady sighed again. I said I thought it was, and asked 
if any special case had been made of any special entreaty. 
4 One/ she admitted, in a justifying tone. 4 A gentleman from 
Japan. He told us he never would have come to England if he 
had not heard of our Association, being a perfect stranger, with- 
out a friend in the place/ 

4 And unacquainted with English prejudices/ I put in. 

4 Quite so. And what could we do ? ’ 

4 What did you do ? 5 I inquired. 

4 We sent two ! 9 responded the little lady, triumphing once 
more over the situation. 4 Nobody could say anything to that. 
And he was such a pleasant little man, and thanked us so 
cordially/ 

4 Did you find him intelligent ? 9 I asked. 

4 Very/ But the little lady’s manner was growing rather 


66 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 

fidgety, and it occurred to me that perhaps I was taking more 
information than I was entitled to for two-and-six. So I 
went reluctantly downstairs, wishing there was something else 


4 “ WE SENT TWO ” 



that the lady-guides could do for me. A little black-eyed woman 
down there was giving some very businesslike orders. c Half 
a day’s shopping ? I should say send Miss Stuart Saville. And 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


67 


tell her to be very particular about her accounts. Has Mrs. 
Mason got that private ward yet ? ’ 

4 That,’ said my little cicerone, in a subdued tone, 4 is our 
manageress. She planned the whole thing. Wonderful head !’ 

4 Is that so?’ I remarked. 4 1 should like to congratulate 
her.’ 

4 I’m afraid there isn’t time,’ she returned, looking flurried ; 
1 and the manageress doesn’t approve of anybody wasting it. 
Will you write your name in our visitors’ book ? ’ 

4 With pleasure,’ I said ; 4 and I’ll come again whenever I 
feel that I want anything/ And I wrote my name — badly, of 
course, as people always do in visitors’ books, but with the 
lively satisfaction people always experience in writing their 
names — why, I’ve never been able to discover. I passed the 
manageress on my way out. She was confronting a pair of ladies, 
an old and a young one, in black, who leaned on their parasols 
with an air of amiable indecision, and falteringly addressed her : 
4 1 had a day and a half last week,’ one of them said, rather 

weakly; 4 is there? — do you want me for anything this ?’ 

The manageress looked at her with some impatience. 4 If I 
want you I’ll send for you, Miss Gypsum,’ she said. The door 
closed upon me at that moment, so I don’t know how Miss 
Gypsum got away. 

As for me, I walked through Cockspur Street and through 
Waterloo Place, and so into Piccadilly, reflecting upon Mrs. 
Pragge, and Miss Camblewell, and all their uncertainties. 
Standing in the lee of a large policeman on one of your valuable 
iron refuges in the middle of the street, a flounced black-and- 
white parasol suddenly shut down almost in my face. The lady 
belonging to it leaned over her carriage and said : 4 How d’ye 
do, Miss ? Dear me, how stupid I am about names! Miss 


68 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


Chicago-young-lady-who-ran-away-without-getting-my-address? 

Now I’ve found you, just pop in ’ 

4 1 must ask you to drive on, madam,’ the policeman said. 

4 As soon as this young lady has popped in. There ! Now, 
my dear, what did the relation say ? I’ve been longing to 
know.’ 

And before I realised another thing I was rolling up Regent 
Street statefully in the carriage of Mrs. Torquilin. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


69 


VII 



you going there now ? ’ Mrs. Torquilin went on. 
Because I’m only out for an airing, I can drop you 

anywhere you like.’ 

‘ Oh, by no 
means, thank you, 
Mrs. Torquilin/ I 
said ; c I’ve been 
there already.’ 


6 “ I CAN DROP YOU ANYWHERE YOU LIKE 




70 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


Mrs. Torquilin looked at me with an extraordinary expres- 
sion. On top it was conscientiously shocked, underneath it was 
extremely curious, amused by anticipation, and, through it all, 
kindly. 

4 You don’t get on,’ she said. c What did I tell you ? 
44 Mark my words,” I said to Charlie Mafferton, 44 that child 
knows nothing of what is ahead of her ! ” But pray go on. 
What happened ? ’ 

I went on, and told Mrs. Torquilin what happened a good 
deal as I have told you, but I am afraid not so properly, 
because she was very much amused; and I suppose if the 
story of my interview with Mrs. Portheris excited any feeling in 
your mind, it was one of sympathy for me. At least, that was 
what I intended. But I was so happy in Mrs. Torquilin’s 
carriage, and so delighted to be talking to somebody I knew, 
that I made as funny an account of the tender greetings of my 
relation as I could, and it lasted all the way to the Metropole, 
where I was to be dropped. I referred to her always as 4 my 
relation,’ because Mrs. Torquilin seemed to enjoy the expression. 
Incidentally, too, I told her about my plans, and showed her 
the addresses I had from the lady-guide, and she was kind 
enough to say that if I did not find them satisfactory I must let 
her know, and she could send me to a person of her acquaintance, 
where I should be 4 very comfy, dear ’ ; and I believed her. 4 You 
see,’ she said, 4 1 should like to take a little interest in your 
plans, because you seem to be the only really American girl 
I’ve come upon in the whole course of my travels. The New York 
ones were all English imitations — I had no patience with them/ 

4 Oh ! ’ I responded, cheerfully, 4 that’s only on the outside, 
Mrs. Torquilin. If you ran down the Stars and Stripes I guess 
you would find them pretty American/ 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


7i 


1 Well, yes,’ Mrs. Torquilin admitted, c I remember that was 
the case ’ ; but just then we stopped in front of the Metropole, 
and I begged her to come in and lunch with me. ‘ Dear me, 
child, no ; I must be off ! 5 she said ; but I used all the persuasion 
I could, and represented how dreadfully lonely it was for me, 
and Mrs. Torquilin hesitated. At the moment of her hesitation 
there floated out from the dining-room a most appetising 
suggestion of fried soles. What small matters contribute to 
important results ! I don’t know anything that I have more 
cause to be grateful to than that little wandering odour. For 
Mrs. Torquilin, encountering it, said, with some feeling, ‘ Poor 
child. I’ve no doubt it is lonely for you. Perhaps I really 
ought to cheer you up a bit — I’ll come ! 9 

And Mrs. Torquilin and I pursued the wandering odour into 
the dining-room. 

We had a particularly good lunch, and we both enjoyed it 
immensely, though Mrs. Torquilin made a fuss about my ordering 
champagne, and said it was simply ruinous, and I really ought to 
have somebody to look after me. ‘ By the way,’ she said, 
‘ have you seen anything of the Maffertons ? ’ I told her that 
Mr. Mafferton had left his card the afternoon before, but I was 
out. ‘You were out?’ said Mrs. Torquilin. ‘What a pity ! ’ 
I said no ; 1 wasn’t very sorry, because I felt so unsettled in my 
mind that I was sure I couldn’t work myself up to an intelligent 
discussion of any of Mr. Mafferton’s favourite subjects, and he 
would hardly have found much pleasure in his visit. ‘ Oh ! I 
think he would,’ said Mrs. Torquilin. ‘ What on earth has 
“ intelligent discussion ” to do with it ? I know the Maffertons 
very well,’ she went on, looking at me quite sharply. ‘ Excel- 
lent family — cousins of Lord Mafferton of Mafferton. Charlie 
has enough, but not too much, I should say. However, that’s 
6 


7 2 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


neither here nor there, for he has no expensive habits, to my 
knowledge/ 

‘ Just imagine/ I said, ‘his being cousin to a lord! And 
yet he’s not a bit haughty ! Have you ever seen the lord, Mrs. 
Torquilin ? ’ 

‘ Bless the child, yes ! Gone down to dinner with him more 
than once ! Between ourselves, 5 said Mrs. Torquilin, confi- 
dentially, 4 he’s an old brute — neither more nor less ! But one 
can’t be rude to the man. What he’ll have to say to it heaven 
only knows ! But Charlie is quite capable of snapping his 
fingers at him. Do have one of these ices.’ 

I was immensely interested. 4 What has Mr. Mafferton been 
doing ? ’ I asked. 

4 I’ve no reason to believe he’s done it yet,’ said Mrs. Tor- 
quilin, a little crossly I thought. 4 Perhaps he won’t/ 

4 I’m sure I hope not,’ I returned. 4 Mr. Mafferton is so 
nice that it would be a pity if he got into trouble with his rela- 
tions, especially if one of them is a lord/ 

4 Then don’t let him ! ’ said Mrs. Torquilin, more crossly than 
before. 

4 Do you think I would have any influence with him ? ’ I 
asked her. 4 1 should doubt it very much. Mr. Mafferton 
doesn’t strike me as a person at all susceptible to ladies’ 
influence. But, if I knew the circumstances, I might 
try/ 

4 Oh, come along, child ! ’ Mrs. Torquilin returned, folding up 
the napkin. 4 You’re too stupid. I’ll see the Maffertons in a 
day or two, and I’ll tell them what I think of you. Is there 
nothing else you’ll have ? Then let us depart, and make room for 
somebody else.’ And I followed Mrs. Torquilin out of the room 
with a vague consciousness that she had an important voice iu 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


73 


the management of the hotel, and had been kind enough to give 
me my lunch. 

My friend did not take leave of me in the hall. ‘ I’d like to 
see the place,’ she said. ‘ Take me up into the drawing- 
room.’ 

Mrs. Torquilin admired the drawing-room very much. 
‘ Sumptuous ! ’ she said, ‘ Sumptuous ! ’ And as I walked 



< 0NE OF THE LADIES WAS SITTING BOLT UPRIGHT, WITH A STERN, MAJESTIC EYE ’ 

round it with her I felt a particular kind of pleasure in being 
the more familiar with it of the two, and a little pride, too, in 
its luxury, which I had always been told was specially designed 
to suit Americans. I was so occupied with these feelings and 
with Mrs. Torquilin’s remarks, that 'I did not observe two ladies 
on a sofa at the end of the room until we were almost in front 
of them. Then I noticed that one of the ladies was sitting bolt 
upright, with a stern, majestic eye fixed full upon me, apparently 


74 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


frozen witli indignation ; I also noticed that it was Mrs* 
Portheris. The other lady, in rusty black, as I knew she would 
be, occupied the farther end of the sofa, very much wilted 
indeed. 

4 Miss Wick,’ said Mrs. Portheris, portentously, standing up, 
4 1 have been shopping in the interval, but my friend Miss 
Purkiss — this is Miss Purkiss ; Miss Purkiss, this is Miss Wick, 
the connection from Chicago whom you so kindly consented to 
try to befriend — Miss Purkiss has been here since ten o’clock. 
You will excuse her rising — she is almost, I might say, in a state 
of collapse ! 9 

I turned round to Mrs. Torquilin. 

4 Mrs. Torquilin,’ I said, 4 this is my relation, Mrs. Portheris. 
Mrs. Portheris — Mrs. Torquilin.’ In America we always intro- 
duce. 

But I was astonished at the change in Mrs. Torquilin. She 
seemed to have grown quite two inches taller, and she was re- 
garding Mrs. Portheris through a pair of eyeglasses on a stick 
in the most inexplicable manner, with her mouth set very firmly 
indeed in a sort of contemptuous smile. 

4 Mrs. Cummers Portheris ! ’ she said. 4 Yes, I think Mrs. 
Cummers Portheris knows me. You did not tell me, dear, that 
Mrs. Portheris was your relation — but you need not fear that I 
shall think any the less of you for that.’ 

4 Heppy,’ said Mrs. Portheris, throwing up her chin, but 
looking distinctly nervous, 4 your temper is much the same, I am 
sorry to see, as it always was.’ 

Mrs. Torquilin opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again 
resolutely, with an expression of infinite disdain. Then, to my 
surprise, she took a chair, in a way that told me distinctly of 
her intention not to desert me. I felt at the moment that I 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


75 


would have given anything to be deserted — the situation was 
so very embarrassing. The only thing I could think of to do 
was to ask Miss Purkiss if she and Mrs. Portheris wouldn’t 
have some lunch. Miss Purkiss looked quite cheerful for a 
moment, and began to unbutton her glove ; but her countenance 
fell when my unfeeling relation forbade her with a look, and said : 

4 Thank you, no , Miss Wick ! Having waited so long, we can 
easily manage without food a little longer. Let us get to our 
arrangements. Perhaps Miss Purkiss will tell Miss Wick 
what she has to offer her.’ Mrs. Portheris was evidently 
trying to ignore Mrs. Torquilin, and sat offensively, and side- 
ways to her ; but she could not keep the apprehension out of 
her eye. 

4 Certainly ! ’ I said ; 1 but Miss Purkiss must have some- 
thing.’ I was determined to decline, but I wished to do it as 
mercifully as possible. 4 Tell somebody,’ I said to a servant who 
had come up to poke the fire, ‘ to bring up some claret and 
crackers.’ 

4 Biscuits, child,’ put in Mrs. Torquilin, 4 is what you mean. 
Biscuits the young lady means ’ — to the servant — 4 and be 
sharp about it, for we want to go out immediately.’ Then — 
4 May I ask what arrangements you were thinking of offering 
Miss Wick ? ’ — to Miss Purkiss. 

Miss Purkiss began, quaveringly, that she had never done 
such a thing in her life before, but as Mrs. Portheris particularly 
Tvished it 

4 For your own good, Jane,’ interrupted Mrs. Portheris ; 
1 entirely for your own good. I don’t call that gratitude.’ 

Miss Purkiss hastily admitted that it was for her own good, 
of course, and that Mrs. Portheris knew her far too well to 
believe for a moment that she was not grateful; but I could 


7 6 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


have a nice back bedroom on the second floor, and the use of her 
sitting-room all day, and I, being recommended by Mrs. Por- 
theris, she wouldn’t think of many extras. Well, if there were 
fires, lights, the use of the bath and piano, boots, and friends to 
meals, that would be all. 

c It is quite impossible ! 9 said Mrs. Torquilin. 4 I’m sorry 
you had the trouble of coming. In the first place, I fear my 
young friend ,’ with emphasis and a cursory glance at Mrs. Por- 
theris’s chair, 4 would find it dull in Upper Baker Street. In 
the second ’ — Mrs. Torquilin hesitated for a moment, and then 
made the plunge — 4 I have taken a flat for the season, and Miss 
Wick is coming to me. I believe that is our little plan, my 
dear’ — with a meaning smile to me. Then Mrs. Torquilin 
looked at Mrs. Portheris as if she were wondering whether there 
could be any discoverable reason why my relation should stay 
any longer. Mrs. Portheris rose, routed, but with a calm eye 
and a steady front. 4 In that case I hope you will be forbearing 
with her, Heppy,’ she said. 4 Remember that she is a stranger 
to our ways of thinking and doing, and has probably never had 
the advantages of up-bringing that you and I have. I have no 
doubt, however, that my nephew, Colonel Wick, has done his 
best for her. As you are probably aware , he is worth his 
million.’ 

Mrs. Torquilin missed the sarcasm. 4 Not I ! ’ she returned, 
coolly ; 4 but I’m sure I’m very glad to hear it, for Miss Wick’s 
sake. As to my temper, I’ve noticed that those know most 
about it who best deserve it. I don’t think you need worry 
yourself about your young connection, Mrs. Cummers Portheris.’ 

4 No,’ said 1, meekly ; 4 1 should hate to be a weight on your 
mind.’ 

Mrs. Portheris took my hand in quite an affecting manner. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


77 


1 Then I leave you, Miss Wick,’ she said, ‘ to this lady — and to 
Providence.’ 



‘ “ THEN I LEAVE YOU, MISS WICK,” SHE SAID, “ TO THIS LADY — AND TO 
PROVIDENCE ” ’ 

‘ Between them/ I said, c I ought to have a very good time/ 
Mrs. Portheris dropped my hand. ‘ I feel/ she said, £ that 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


78 

I have done my part toward you ; but remember, if ever 
you want a home , Miss Purkiss will take you in. When in 
doubt 9 

4 Play trumps ! 9 said Mrs. Torquilin from the window, where 
she stood with her back to all of us. 4 I always do. Is that 
your carriage waiting outside, Mrs. Cummers Portheris ? 9 

4 It is/ said my relation, betrayed into asperity. 4 I hope 
you have no objection to it ! 5 

4 Oh, none — not the least. But the horses seem very 
restive/ 

4 Come, Miss Purkiss ! 9 said my relation. 

4 The wine and biscuits, dear love/ said Miss Purkiss, 4 are 
just arriving/ 

But Mrs. Portheris was bowing, with stately indefiniteness, 
to Mrs. Torquilin’s back. 

4 Come, Miss Purkiss ! 9 she commanded again. 4 You can 
get a sandwich at the 44 A. B. C .” 9 

And Miss Purkiss arose and followed my relation, which was 
the saddest thing of all. 

As soon as they were well out of the room, Mrs. Torquilin 
turned round. 4 1 suppose you’ll wonder about the why and 
wherefore of all this turn-up/ she said to me, her cheeks 
flushed and her eyes sparkling. 4 It’s a long story, and I’ll tell 
you another time. But it comes to this in the end — that 
creature and I married into the same family. My husband and 
the late John Portheris, poor fellow, were step-brothers ; and that 
old cat had the impudence — but there’s no use going into it 
now. All I have to say is, she generally meets her match 
when she meets me. I’ll put up with no hanky-panky 
work from Mrs. Cummers Portheris, my dear — and well she 
knows it ! 9 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


79 


‘ It was certainly nice of you to help me out of the difficulty, 
Mrs. Torquilin,’ I said, 4 for I’d rather go anywhere than to 
Miss Purkiss’s ; but I’m sorry you had to 5 

4 Tell a tarradiddle ? Not a bit of it, my dear — I meant it. 
Two are better than one, any day — I’ve plenty of room in my 
little flat, and if you like to share the expenses, I’ll not object. 
At all events, we can but try it, and it will be showing very 
good feeling towards the Maffertons. I’m not a great hand for 
junketing, mind you, but we’ll manage to amuse ourselves a 
little — a little giddy-goating does nobody any harm.’ 

Then I kissed Mrs. Torquilin, and she kissed me, and I told 
her how extremely obliged I was to her, and asked her if she had 
really considered it ; and Mrs. Torquilin said, wasn’t it enough 
that I should be left to 4 that woman,’ meaning my relation, and 
that I should come next day to see how we could best arrange 
matters. 4 And while I think of it, child, here is my address,’ 
my friend continued, taking out her card-case, and watching 
me very carefully, with a little smile about her mouth. I looked 
at it. I think my embarrassment gratified her a little ; for the 
card read, 4 Lady Torquilin , 102 Cadogan Mansions, S.W.’ I 
didn’t know what to say. And I had been calling a lady of 
title 4 Mrs.’ all this time ! Still, I reflected, she would hardly 
have been so nice to me if I had offended her very much, and 
if she had been particular about her title she could have men- 
tioned it. 

4 It seems,’ I said, 4 that I have been making a mistake. I 
expected to make mistakes in this country ; but I’m sorry I 
began with you.’ 

4 Nonsense, child ! ’ she returned. 4 It was just my little 
joke — and I made Charlie Mafferton keep it. There’s precious 
little in the handle I assure you — except an extra half-crown in 


8o 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


one’s bills ! ’ And Lady Torquilin gave me lier hand to say 
good-bye. 

4 Good-bye,’ I said ; 4 I think handles are nice all the same.’ 
And then — it is an uncomfortable thing to write, but it hap- 
pened — I thought of something. I was determined to make no 
more mistakes if asking would prevent it. 

4 Please tell me,’ I said, 4 for you see I can’t possibly know — 
am I to call you 44 your ladyship,” or 44 my lady ” ? ’ 

4 Now don’t talk rubbish ! ’ said Lady Torquilin. 4 You’re 
to call me by my name. You are too quaint. Be a good child 
— and don’t be late to-morrow.’ 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


81 


VIII 

4 TF I only had my own house in Portman Street/ Lady Torquilin 
JL remarked next day when we were having our tea in her 
flat, 4 I could make you a great deal more comfy. Here we 
are just a bit cramped — a crowded/' as you say in America. 
But you can't eat your cake and have it too/ 

c Which have you done, Lady Torquilin/ I inquired, 1 with 
your cake ? ' 

4 Let it,’ said my friend — 4 twenty-five guineas a week, my 
dear, which is something to a poor woman. Last season it 
only brought twenty, and cost me a fortune to get it clean again 
after the pigs who lived in it. For the extra five I have to be 
thankful to the Duchess.’ 

4 Did you really let it to a Duchess ? ’ I asked, with deep 
interest. 4 How lovely ! ' 

4 Indeed I did not ! But the Duchess came to live round 
the corner, and rents went up in consequence. You don’t 
know what it means to property-owners in London to have a 
duchess living round the corner, my child. It means every- 
thing. Not that I’m freehold in Portman Street —I’ve only a 
lease/ and Lady Torquilin sighed. This led us naturally into 
matters of finance, and we had a nice, sensible, practical discus- 
sion about our joint expenses. It doesn’t matter to anybody what 
our arrangement was, but I must say that I found great occa- 
sion for protest against its liberality towai^ds me. 4 Nonsense ! ’ 


$2 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


said Lady Torquilin, invariably ; 4 don’t be a foolish kitten ! It’s 
probably less than you would pay at a good private hotel — 
that’s the advantage to you. Every time we take a hansom it 
will be only sixpence each instead of a shilling — that’s the 
advantage to me ; and no small advantage it is, for cabs are 
my ruin. And you’ll save me plenty of steps, I’m sure, my 
dear ! So there, say no more about it, but go and get your 
boxes.’ 

So I drove back to the Metropole finally, and as I locked 
my last trunk I noticed a fresh card on the mantelpiece. It 
was another of Mr. Charles Mafferton’s ; and on the back was 
written in pencil : i I hope you are meeting with no difficulties . 
Should be glad to be of use in any way . Please let me know your 
permanent address as soon as possible , as the mother and sisters 
would like to call upon you. — 0 . M.’ This was nice and kind 
and friendly, and I tried in vain to reconcile it with what I had 
heard of English stiffness and exclusiveness and reserve. I 
would write to Mr. Mafferton, I thought, that very night. I 
supposed that by the mother he meant his own, but it struck 
me as a curious expression. In America we specify our parents, 
and a reference to 4 the mother’ there would probably be held 
to refer back to Eve. But in England you like all kinds of 
distinguishing articles, don’t you ? 

Lady Torquilin’s flat was a new one, of the regular American 
kind — not a second or third floor in an old-fashioned London 
house — and had a share, I am thankful to say, in a primitive 
elevator. The elevator was very small, but the man in the 
lower hall seemed to stand greatly in awe of it. 4 To get them 
there boxes up in this ’ere lift, miss,’ he said, when I and my 
trunks presented ourselves, 4 she’ll ’ave to make three trips at 
least’ — and he looked at me rather reproachfully. 4 Ware do 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


83 


you want ’em put out ? ’ I said, 4 Lady Torquilin’s flat.’ 
‘That’s Number Four,’ he commented, ‘a good ways up. If 
you wouldn’t mind a h’extra sixpence, miss, I could get a man 
off the street to ’elp me with ’em — they do be a size ! ’ I said 
by all means, and presently my impedimenta were ascending 
with much deliberate circumstance, one piece at a time. The 
acoustic properties of Cadogan Mansions are remarkable. 
Standing at the foot of that elevator, encouraging its labours 
as it were, I could not possibly help overhearing Lady Torquilin’s 
reception of my trunks, mingled with the more subdued voices 
of her housemaids. It was such a warm reception, expressed 
in such graphic terms, that I thought I ought to be present 
myself to acknowledge it ; and the man put on two ordinary- 
sized valises next, to allow me to go up at the same time. 
4 We’ve got our orders, miss, to be pertickeler about wot she 
carries, miss,’ he said, when I thought a trunk or two might 
accompany me. 4 You see, if anything went wrong with ’er 
works, miss, there’s no sayin’ ware we’d be ! ’ — and we solemnly 
began to rise. 4 Ladies in the Mansions don’t generally use the 
lift such a very great deal,’ he remarked further, 4 especially 
goin’ down. They complain of the sinkin’.’ 

4 1 shall always go up and down in it,’ I said. 4 1 don’t 
mind the sinking. I’m used to it.’ 

4 Very well, miss. You ’ave only to press the button and 
she’ll come up ; an’ a great convenience you’ll find ’er, miss,’ 
he returned, resignedly, unlocking the grated door on Lady 
Torquilin’s flat, where my hostess stood with her hands folded, 
and two maids respectfully behind her, regarding the first 
instalment of my baggage. After she had welcomed me : 4 It’s 
curiosity in its way,’ said Lady Torquilin ; 4 but what’s to be 
done with it, the dear only knows — unless we sublet it.’ It 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


required some strength of mind to tell her that there were two 
more coming up. The next one she called an abnormity, and 
the third she called a barn — simply. And I must say my 
trunks did look imposing in Lady Torquilin’s flat. Finally, 
however, by the exercise of ingenuity on our parts and muscle 
on the maids’, we got the whole of my baggage ‘ settled up,’ as 
Lady Torquilin expressed it, and I was ready for my first 
approved and endorsed experience in your metropolis. 

It came that afternoon. 4 1 am going to take you,’ said 
Lady Torquilin at lunch, c to Mrs. Fry Hamilton’s “ at home.” 
She likes Americans, and her parties — “ functions,” as society 
idiots call it — disgusting word — are generally rather “swagger,” 
as they say. I daresay you’ll enjoy it. Make yourself as tidy 
as possible, mind. Put on your pretty grey; tuck in that 
“ fringe ” of yours a bit too, my dear ; and be ready by five 
sharp.’ 

‘ Don’t you like my bangs, Lady Torquilin ? 9 

‘ Say your fringe, child ; people don’t “ bang ” in England 
— except doors and the piano. No, I can’t say I’m fond of it. 
What were you given a forehead for, if you were not intended 
to show it? I fancy I see Sir Hector, when he was alive, 
allowing me to wear a fringe ! ’ And Lady Torquilin pushed 
my hair up in that fond, cheerful, heavy-handed way people 
have, that makes you back away nervously and feel yourself a 
fright. I went to my room wondering whether my affection 
for Lady Torquilin would ever culminate in the sacrifice of my 
bangs. I could not say, seriously, that I felt equal to it then. 

We went to Mrs. Fry Hamilton’s in a hansom — not, as Lady 
Toiquilin said, that she had the least objection to omnibuses, 
especially when they didn’t drop one at the very door, but 
because there were no omnibuses very convenient to the part of 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


85 


Cromwell Road that Mrs. Fry Hamilton lived in. We inspected 
several before Lady Torquilin made a selection — rubber-tyred, 
yellow- wheeled, with a horse attached that would hardly stand 
still while we got in. I was acutely miserable, he went so 
fast; but Lady Torquilin liked it. 4 He’s perfectly fresh, poor 
darling ! 5 she said. 4 It breaks my heart to drive behind a 
wretched worn-out creature with its head down.’ I said, Yes, 
I thought he was very fresh indeed, and asked Lady Torquilin 
if she noticed how he waggled his head. 4 Dear beastie ! ’ she 
replied, 4 he’s got a sore mouth. Suppose your mouth were 
perfectly raw, and you had a bit in it, and a man tugging at 

the reins ’ But I couldn’t stand it any longer ; I put my 

parasol up through the door in the top. 4 Make him stop 
waggling ! ’ I called to the driver. 4 It’s only a little ’abit of 
’is, miss,’ the driver said, and then, as the horse dropped his 
pace, he whipped him. Instantly Lady Torquilin’s parasol 
admonished him. 4 If you flog your horse,’ she said emphati- 
cally, 4 I get out.’ I don’t think I have ever driven in a hansom 
with Lady Torquilin since that our parasols have not both gone 
through the roof to point statements like these to the cabman, 
Lady Torquilin usually anguished on the dear horse’s account, 
and I unhappy on my own. It enlivens the most monotonous 
drive, but it is a great strain on the nerves. I generally beg 
for a four-wheeler instead ; but Lady Torquilin is contemptuous 
of four-wheelers, and declares she would just as soon drive in 
the British Museum. She says I will get used to it if I will 
only abstract my mind and talk about something else ; and I 
am trying, but the process is a very painful one. 

When we arrived at Mrs. Fry Hamilton’s I rang the bell. 

4 Bless you, child ! ’ said Lady Torquilin, 4 that’s not the way. 
They’ll take you for a nursery governess, or a piano-tuner, or a 


86 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


bill ! This is the proper thing for visitors.’ And with that 
Lady Torquilin rapped sonorously and rang a peal — such a rap 
and peal as I had never heard in all my life before. In America 



“‘MAKE HIM STOP WAGGLING,” I CALLED TO THE DRIVER ’ 


we have only one kind of ring for everybody — from the mayor 
of the city to the man who sells plaster Cupids and will take 
old clothes on account. We approach each other’s door-bells, 
as a nation, with much greater deference ; and there is a certain 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


«7 


humility in the way we introduce our personalities anywhere. 
I felt uncomfortable on Mrs. Fry Hamilton’s doorstep, as if I 
were not, individually, worth all that noise. Since then I have 
been obliged to rap and ring myself, because Lady Torquilin 
likes me to be as proper as I can ; but there is always an in- 
completeness about the rap and an ineffectualness about the 
ring. I simply haven’t the education to do it. And when the 
footman opens the door I feel that my face expresses deprecat- 
ingly, ‘ It’s only me!’ ‘ Rap and ring ! ’ says Lady Torquilin, 
deridingly, ‘ it’s a tap and tinkle ! ’ Lady Torquilin is fond of 
alliteration. 

Inside quite a few people were ascending and descending a 
narrow staircase that climbed against the wall, taking up as 
little room as it could ; and a great many were in the room on 
the ground-floor, where refreshments were being dispensed. 
They were all beautifully dressed — if I have learned anything in 
England, it is not to judge the English by the clothes they wear 
in America — and they moved about with great precision, 
making, as a general thing, that pleasant rustle which we know 
to mean a silk foundation. The rustle was the only form of 
conversation that appeared to be general, but I noticed speak- 
ing going on in several groups of two or three. And I never 
saw better going up and down stairs — it was beautifully done, 
even by ladies weighing, I should think, quite two hundred 
pounds apiece, which you must reduce to “ stun ” for yourself. 
Lady Torquilin led the way with great simplicity and directness 
into the dining-room, and got tea for us both from one of the 
three white-capped modestly-expressionless maids behind the 
table — I cannot tell you what a dream of peace your servants 
are in this country — and asked me whether I would have 
sponge-cake, or a cress sandwich, or what. 6 But,’ I said, 
7 


88 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


1 where is Mrs. Fry Hamilton ? — I haven’t been introduced.’ 
‘All in good time/ said Lady Torquilin. 4 It’s just as well 
to take our tea when we can get it — we won’t be able to turn 
round in here in half an hour ! ’ — and Lady Torquilin took 
another sandwich with composure. 4 Try the plum-cake/ she 
advised me in an aside. 4 Buszard — I can tell at a glance ! 1 

have to deny myself.’ 

And I tried the plum-cake, but with a sense of guilty 
apprehension lest Mrs. Fry Hamilton should appear in the 
doorway and be naturally surprised at the consumption of her 
refreshments by an utter stranger. I noticed that almost 
everybody else did the same thing, and that nobody seemed at 
all nervous ; but I occupied as much of Lady Torquilin’s shadow 
as I could, all the same, and on the way up implored her, saying, 
4 Have I any crumbs ? ’ I felt that it would require more 
hardihood than I possessed to face Mrs. Fry Hamilton with 
shreds of her substance, acquired before I knew her, clinging to 
my person. But concealment was useless, and seemed to be 
unnecessary. 

4 Have you had any tea ? ’ said Mrs. Fry Hamilton to Lady 
Torquilin, her question embracing us both, as we passed before 
her; and Lady Torquilin said, 4 Yes, thanks/ as nonchalantly 
as possible. 

Lady Torquilin had just time to say that I was an American. 

4 Keally ! ’ remarked Mrs. Fry Hamilton, looking at me 
again. 4 How nice. The only one I have to-day, I think.’ 
And we had to make room for somebody else. But it was then 
that the curious sensation of being attached to a string and led 
about, which I have felt more or less in London ever since, 
occurred to me first — in the statement that I was the only one 
Mrs. Fry Hamilton had to-day. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


89 


Lady Torquilin declared, as she looked round the room, that 
she didn’t see a soul she knew ; so we made our way to a corner 
and sat down, and began to talk in those uninterested spasms 
that always attack people who come with each other. Pre- 
sently — c There is that nice little Mrs. Pastelle- Jones ! ’ said 
Lady Torquilin, c I must go and speak to her ! ’ — and I was left 
alone, with the opportunity of admiring the china. I don’t 
wonder at your fondness for it in London drawing-rooms. It 
seems to be the only thing that you can keep clean. So many 
people were filing in past Mrs. Fry Hamilton, however, that 
the china soon lost its interest for me. The people were chiefly 
ladies — an impressive number of old, stout, rosy, white-haired 
ladies in black, who gave me the idea of remarkable health at 
their age ; more middle-aged ones, rather inclined to be pale 
and thin, with narrow cheek-bones, and high-arched noses, and 
sweet expressions, and a great deal of black lace and jet, much 
puffed on the shoulders ; and young ones, who were, of course, 
the very first English young ladies I had ever seen in an 
English drawing-room. I suppose you are accustomed to 
them ; you don’t know what they were to me — you couldn’t 
understand the intense interest and wonder and admiration 
they excited in me. 1 had never seen anything human so tall and 
strong and fine and fresh-coloured before, with such clear 
limpid eyes, such pretty red lips, and the outward showing of 
such excellent appetites. It seemed to me that everyone was 
an epitome of her early years of bread-and-butter and milk 
puddings and going to bed at half-past nine, and the epitomes 
had a charming similarity. The English young lady stood 
before me in Mrs. Fry Hamilton’s drawing-room as an extra- 
ordinary product — in almost all cases five-eight, and in some 
quite six feet in height. Her little mamma was dwarfed beside 


90 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


her, and when she smiled down upon the occasional man who 
was introduced to her, in her tall, compassionate way, he looked 
quite insignificant, even if he carried the square, turned-back 
shoulders by which I have learned to tell military men in this 
country. We have nothing like it in America, on the same 
scale ; although we have a great deal more air to breathe and 
vegetables to eat than you. I knew that 1 had always been 
considered 4 a big girl,’ but beside these firm-fleshed young 
women I felt myself rather a poor creature, without a muscular 
advantage to my name. They smiled a good deal, but I did 
not see them talk much — it seemed enough for them to be ; 
and they had a considering air, as if things were new to them, 
and they had not quite made up their minds. And as they 
considered they blushed a good deal, in a way that was simply 
sweet. As I sat musing upon them I saw Lady Torquilin 
advancing toward me, with one of the tallest, pinkest, best- 
developed, and most tailor-made of all immediately behind her, 
following, with her chin outstretched a little, and her eyes 
downcast, and a pretty expression of doing what she was told. 

4 My dear,’ said Lady Torquilin, 4 this is Miss Gladys For- 
tescue. Gladys — Miss Wick, my young lady friend from 
Chicago. Miss Fortescue has a brother in America, so you will 
have something to chat about.* 

4 Howdj-do ? ’ said Miss Fortescue. She said it very quickly, 
with a sweet smile, and an interesting little mechanical move- 
ment of the head, blushing at the same time ; and we shook 
hands. That is, I think one of us did, though I can’t say 
positively which one it was. As I remember the process, there 
were two shakes ; but they were not shakes that ran into each 
other, and one of them — I think it was mine — failed to 4 come 
off,’ as you say in tennis. Mine was the shake that begins 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


91 


nowhere in particular, and ends without your knowing it — 
just the ordinary American shake arranged on the muscular 
system in common use with us. Miss Fortescue’s was a rapid, 
convulsive movement, that sprang from her shoulder and cul- 
minated with a certain violence. There was a little push in it, 
too, and it exploded, as it were, high in air. At the same time 
I noticed the spectacles of a small man who stood near very 
much in peril from Miss Fortescue’s elbow. Then I remembered 
and understood the sense of dislocation I had experienced after 
shaking hands with Mrs. Fry Hamilton, and which I had 
attributed, in the confusion of the moment, to being held up, 
so to speak, as an American. 

4 Do you know my brother ? 5 said Miss Fortescue. 

4 I am afraid not,’ I replied. 4 Where does he live ? ’ 

4 In the United States/ said Miss Fortescue. 4 He went ov.t 
there six months ago with a friend. Perhaps you know his 
friend — Mr. Colfax/ 

I said I knew two or three Mr. Colfaxes, but none of them 
were English — had not been, at least, for some time back ; and 
did Miss Fortescue know what particular part of the Union her 
brother and his friend had gone to ? 4 You know/ I said, 4 we 

have an area of three million square miles/ I daresay I men- 
tioned our area with a certain pardonable pride. It's a thing 
we generally make a point of in America. 

I shouldn’t have thought there was anything particularly 
humorous in an area, but Miss Fortescue laughed prettily. 4 1 
remember learning that from my governess/ she said. 4 My 
brother is out in the West — either in the town of Minneapolis 
and the State of Minnesota, or the town of Minnesota and the 
State of Minneapolis. I never know, without looking out his 
address, which comes first. But I daresay there are a good 


92 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 



« it 


YOU HAVE THE TOE-BEGANING — THAT MUST BE NICE 


>5 ) 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


93 


many people in the United States — you might easily miss 
him/ 

‘We have sixty millions, Miss Fortescue,’ I said; and Miss 
Fortescue returned that in that case she didn’t see how we 
could be expected to know anybody ; and after that the conver- 
sation flagged for a few seconds, during which we both looked 
at the other people. 

4 I have never been to America,’ Miss Fortescue said. 4 I 
should like to go. Is it very cold ? ’ 

I did not mention the area again. 4 In some places,’ I said. 

4 I should not like that. But then, you have the toe-began- 
ing — that must be nice/ 

I assented, though I did not in the least know, until Miss 
Fortescue spoke of skating, what she meant. Miss Fortescue 
thought the skating must be nice, too, and then, she supposed, 
though it was cold, we always went out prepared for it. And 
the conversation flagged again. Fortunately, a gentleman at 
the other end of the room, where the piano was, began at that 
moment to sing something very pleading and lamentable and 
uncomfortable, with a burden of 6 1 love thee so,’ which gene- 
rally rhymed with ‘woe’ — an address to somebody he called 
4 Dear-r-r Hear-r-r-t ! ’ as high as he could reach, turning up 
his eyes a good deal, as if he were in pain. And for the time 
it was not necessary to talk. When he had finished Miss For- 
tescue asked me if it was not delightful, and I said it w T as — 
did she know the gentleman’s name ? Miss Fortescue said she 
did not, but perhaps Lady Torquilin would. And then, just as 
Lady Torquilin came up, 4 How do you like England ? ’ asked 
Miss Fortescue. 

• • • • • 

4 Well,’ asked Lady Torquilin, as we drove home in another 


94 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


hansom, c what did you and Gladys Fortescue find to say to 
each other ? 5 

I said, quite truly, that I did not remember at the moment, 
but I admired Miss Fortescue — also with great sincerity — so 



‘SOMEBODY HE CALLED “ DEAR-R-R REAR-R R T ! ” ’ 


enthusiastically, that I daresay Lady Torquilin thought we had 
got on splendidly together. 

And what I wonder is, if Miss Fortescue had been asked 
about our conversation, what she would have said. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


95 


IX 

i ^OU are sure you know where you’re going?’ said Lady 
Torquilin, referring to the 4 Army and Navy/ 4 Victoria 
omnibus, remember, at Sloane-square ; a penny fare, and not 
more, mind. You must learn to look after your pennies. 
Now, what are you to do for me at the Stores ? ’ 

4 A packet of light Silurian ; your camphor and aconite 
pilules; to ask how long they intend to be over the valise 

they’re fixing for you ’ 

4 Portmanteau they’re re-covering. Yes, go on ! ’ 

4 And what their charge is for cleaning red curtains.’ 

1 And to complain about the candles,’ added Lady Tor- 
quilin.’ 

4 And to complain about the candles/ 

4 Yes. Don’t forget about the candles, dear. See what 
they’ll do. And I’m very sorry I can’t go with you to Madame 
Tussaud’s, but you know I’ve been trotting about the whole 
morning, and all those wax people, with their idiotic expres- 
sions, this afternoon would simply finish me off! I’ll just lie 
down a bit, and go with you another day ; I couldn’t stand up 
much longer to talk to the Queen herself! You pop into the 
44 Underground,” you know, at St. James’s Park, and out at 
Baker Street. Now, where do you pop in ? — and out ? That’s 
quite right. Good-bye, child. I rang for the lift to come up a 
quarter of an hour ago ; it’s probably there now, and we mustn’t 


96 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


keep it waiting. Off you go ! ’ But the elevator-door was 
locked, and our descent had begun, when Lady Torquilin 
hurried along the passage, arrested, and kept it waiting on her 
own account. 4 It’s only to say, dear,’ she called through the 
grating, 4 that you are on no consideration whatever to get in 
or out of an Underground train while it is moving. On no con- 
sideration what ; ’ but the grating slowly disappeared, and 

the rest of Lady Torquilin’s admonition came down on the top 
of the elevator. 

I had done every one of the commissions. I had been 
magisterially raised and lowered from one floor to another, to 
find that everything I wanted was situated up and down so 
many staircases 4 and turn to your right, madam,’ that I con- 
cluded they kept an elevator at the Stores for pleasure. I had 
had an agreeable interview with a very blonde young druggist 
upon the pilules in the regions above, and had made it all right 
with a man in mutton-chop whiskers and an apron about the 
candles in the regions below. I had seen a thing I had never 
seen in my life before, a very curious thing, that interested me 
enormously — a husband and father buying his wife’s and 
daughters’ dry-goods — probably Lady Torquilin would tell me 
to say 4 dress materials.’ In America our husbands and fathers 
are too much occupied to make purchases for their families, for 
which it struck me that we had never been thankful enough. 
‘I will not have you in stripes!’ I heard him say, as I 
passed, full of commiseration for her. 4 What arrogance ! ’ I 
thought. 4 In America they are glad to have us in anything.’ 
And I rejoiced that it was so. But, as I was saying, I had 
done all Lady Torquilin’s commissions, and was making my last 
trip to the ground-floor with the old soldier in the elevator, 
when a gentleman got in at one of the stopping-places, and sat 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


97 


down opposite me. He had that look of deliberate indifference 
that I have noticed so many English gentlemen carry about 
with them — as if, although they are bodily present, their interest 
in life had been carefully put away at home — and he con- 



‘“I WILL NOT HAVE YOU IN STRIPES,” I HEARD HIM SAY * 


centrated his attention upon the point of his umbrella, just as 
he used to do upon the salt-cellars crossing the Atlantic Ocean. 
And he looked up almost with astonishment when I said, c How 
do you do, Mr. Mafferton ? ’ rather as if he did not quite expect 


98 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


to be spoken to in an elevator by a young lady. Miss 
Wick!’ he said, and we shook hands as the old soldier let us 
out. ‘ How very odd ! I was on the point of looking you up 
at Lady Torquilin’s. You see, I’ve found you out at last — no 
thanks to you — after looking all over the place.’ 

There was a very definite reproach in this, so I told Mr. 
Mafferton as we went down the steps that I was extremely sorry 
he had taken any trouble on my account ; that I had fully in- 
tended to write to him in the course of a day or two, but he had 
no idea how much time it took up getting settled in a flat 
where the elevator ran only at stated intervals. ‘ But,’ I said, 
with some curiosity, ‘ how did you find me out, Mr. Mafferton?’ 
For if there is one interesting thing, it is to discover how 
an unexpected piece of information about yourself has been 
come by. 

‘Lady Torquilin dropped me a line,’ replied Mr. Mafferton; 
‘ that is, she mentioned it in — in a note yesterday. Lady Tor- 
quilin, ’ Mr. Mafferton went on, ‘ is a very old friend of mine — 
and an awfully good sort, as I daresay you are beginning to 
find out.’ 

By this time we had reached the pavement, and were stand- 
ing in everybody’s way, with the painful indetermination that 
attacks people who are not quite sure whether they ought to 
separate or not. ‘ ’Ansom cab, sir ? ’ asked one of the porters. 
‘ No ! ’ said Mr. Mafferton. ‘ I was on the very point,’ he 
went on to me, dodging a boy with a bandbox, ‘ of going to offer 
my services as cicerone this afternoon, if you and Lady Torquilin 
would be good enough to accept them.’ 

6 ’Ansom cab, sir ? 9 asked another porter, as Mr. Mafferton, 
getting out of the way of a resplendent footman, upset a small 
child with a topheavy bonnet, belonging to the lady who 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


99 


belonged to the footman. 4 No ! ’ said Mr. Mafferton, in quite 
a temper. 4 Shall we get out of this ? ’ he asked me, appeal- 
ingly ; and we 
walked on in the 
direction of the 
Houses of Parlia- 
ment. 

4 There’s no- 
thing on in par- 
ticular, that I know 
of,’ he continued; 

4 but there are 
always the stock 
shows, and Lady 
Torquilin is up to 
any amount of 
sight-seeing, I 
know.’ 

4 She isn’t to- 
day, Mr. Mafferton. She’s lying down. I did my best to 
persuade her to come out with me, and she wouldn’t. But I’m 
going sight-seeing this very minute, and if you would like to 
come too, I’m sure I shall be very glad.’ 

Mr. Mafferton looked a little .uncomfortable. 4 Where were 
you thinking of going ?’ he asked. 

4 To Madame Tussaud’s,’ I said. 4 You go by the Under- 
ground Railway from here. Get in at St. James’s Park Station, 
and out at Baker Street Station — about twenty-five minutes in 
the cars. And you are not,’ I said, remembering what I had 
been told, 4 under any consideration whatever, to get in or out 
of the train while it is moving.’ 



1 DPSET A CHILD WITH A TOPHEAVY BONNET 


L.of 


IOO 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


Mr. Mafferton laughed. 4 Lady Torquilin has been coaching 
you/ he said ; but he still looked uncomfortable, and thinking 
he felt, perhaps, like an intruder upon my plans, and wishing to 
put him at his ease, I said : 4 It would really be very kind of 
you to come, Mr. Mafferton, for even at school I never could 
remember English history, and now I’ve probably got your 
dynasties worse mixed up than ever. It would be a great 
advantage to go with somebody who knows all the dates, and 
which kings usurped their thrones, and who they properly 
belonged to.’ 

Mr. Mafferton laughed again. i I hope you don’t expect all 
that of me,’ he said. 4 But if you are quite sure we couldn’t 
rout Lady Torquilin out, I will take you to Madame Tussaud’s 
with the greatest pleasure, Miss Wick.’ 

‘ I’m quite sure,’ I told Mr. Mafferton, cheerfully. 4 She 
said all those wax people, with their idiotic expressions, this 
afternoon would simply finish her up ! ’ — and Mr. Mafferton said 
Lady Torquilin put things very quaintly, didn’t she ? And we 
went together into one of those great echoing caverns in the 
sides of the streets that led down flights of dirty steps, past the 
man who punches the tickets, and widen out into that border of 
desolation with a fierce star burning and brightening in the 
blackness of the farther end, which is a platform of the Under- 
ground Railway. 

4 This,’ said I to Mr. Mafferton as we walked up and down 
waiting for our train, 4 is one of the things I particularly wanted 
to see.’ 

‘ The penny weighing-machine ? ’ asked Mr. Mafferton, for I 
had stopped to look at that. 

‘ The whole thing,’ said I — 4 the Underground system. But 
this is interesting in itself,’ I added, putting a penny in, and 



c “ PLEASE HOLD MY PARASOL, MR. MAFFERTON, THAT I MAY GET THE EXACT 

TRUTH FOR MY PENNY ” ’ 



102 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


stepping on the machine. 4 Please hold my parasol, Mr. 
Mafferton, so that I may get the exact truth for my penny.’ 
Mr. Mafferton took the parasol with a slightly clouded 
expression, which deepened when one of two gentlemen who 
had just come on the platform bowed to him. 4 1 think, if you 
don’t mind, Miss Wick, we had better go farther along the 
platform — it will be easier to get the carriage, 5 he said, in a 
manner which quite dashed my amiable intention of telling him 
how even the truth was cheaper in this country than in America, 
for our weighing-machines wouldn’t work for less than a 
nickel, which was twice and a-half as much as a penny. 
Just then, however, the train came whizzing in, we bundled 
ourselves into a compartment, the door banged after us with 
frightful explosiveness — the Underground bang is a thing which 
I should think the omnibus companies had great cause to be 
thankful for — and we went with a scream and a rush into the 
black unknown. It seemed to me in the first few minutes that 
life as I had been accustomed to it had lapsed, and that a sort 
of semi-conscious existence was filling up the gap between 
what had been before and what would be again. I can’t say I 
found this phase of being agreeable. It occurred to me that 
my eyes and my ears and my lungs might just as well have 
been left at home. The only organ that found any occupation 
was my nose — all sense seemed concentrated in that sharp- 
edged, objectionable smell. 4 What do you think of the Under- 
ground ? 5 said Mr. Mafferton, leaning across, above the rattle. 
I told him I hadn’t had time to analyse my impressions, in a 
series of shrieks, and subsided to watch for the greyness of the 
next station. After that had passed, and I was convinced that 
there were places where you could escape to the light and air 
of the outside world again, I asked Mr. Mafferton a number of 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


103 


questions about the railway, and in answering them he said the 
first irritating thing I heard in England. 4 I hope/ he remarked, 
4 that your interest in the Underground won’t take you all the 
way round the Circle to see what it’s like.’ 



4 Why do you hope that, Mr. Mafferton ? 5 * * 8 I said. 4 Is it 
dangerous ? ’ 

4 Not in the least/ he returned, a little confusedly. 4 Only 
— most Americans like to 44 make the entire circuit,” I believe.’ 

4 I’ve no doubt they want to see how bad it can be,’ I said. 

4 We are a very fair nation, Mr. Mafferton. But though I can’t 

8 


ro4 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


understand your hope in the matter, I don’t think it likely I 
shall travel by Underground any more than I can help.’ 
Because, for the moment, I felt an annoyance. Why should 
Mr. Mafferton ‘ hope ’ about my conduct ? — Mr. Mafferton was 
not my maiden aunt ! But he very politely asked me how I 
thought it compared with the Elevated in New York, and I was 
obliged to tell him that I really didn’t think it compared at all. 
The Elevated was ugly to look at, and some people found it 
giddy to ride on, but it took you through the best quality of air 
and sunlight the entire distance ; and if anything happened, at 
all events you could see what it was. Mr. Mafferton replied that 
he thought he preferred the darkness to looking through other 
people’s windows ; and this preference of Mr. Mafferton’s struck 
me later as being interestingly English. And after that we both 
lapsed into meditation, and I thought about old London, with 
its Abbey, and its Tower, and its Houses of Parliament, and its 
Bluecoat boys, and its monuments, and its ten thousand hansom 
cabs, lying just over my head ; and an odd, pleasurable sensation 
of undermining the centuries and playing a trick with history 
almost superseded the Underground smell. The more I thought 
about it, and about what Mr. Mafferton had said, the more I 
liked that feeling of taking an enormous liberty with London, 
and by the time we reached Baker Street Station I was able to 
say to Mr. Mafferton, with a clear conscience, in spite of my 
smuts and half-torpid state of mind, that on consideration I 
thought I would like to compass London by the Underground — 
to c make the entire circuit.’ 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


i°5 


X 


I T struck me, from the 
outside, as oddly im- 
' posing — Madame Tussaud’s. 
Partly, I suppose, because 
it is always more or less 
treated jocosely, partly 
because of the homely little 
familiar name, and partly 
because a person’s expecta- 
tions of a waxwork show 
are naturally not very lofty. 
I was looking out for 
anything but a swelling 
dome and a flag, and the 
high brick walls of an In- 
stitution. There seemed a 
grotesqueness of dignity 
about it, which was empha- 
sised by the solemn man at the turnstile who took the shillings 
and let us through, and by the spaciousness inside — empha- 
sised so much that it disappeared, so to speak, and I found 
myself taking the place quite seriously — the gentleman in 
tin on the charger in the main hall below, and the wide 
marble stairs, and the urns in the corners, and the oil paint- 



AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


106 

ings on the landings, and everything. I began asking Mr. 
Mafferton questions immediately, quite in the subdued voice 
people use under impressive circumstances ; but he wasn’t certain 
who the architect was, and couldn’t say where the marble 
came from, and really didn’t know how many years the wax- 
works had been in existence, and hadn’t the least idea what the 
gross receipts were per annum — did not, in fact, seem to think 
he ought to be expected to be acquainted with these matters. 
The only thing he could tell me definitely was that Madame 
Tussaud was dead — and I knew that myself. c Upon my word, 
you know,’ said Mr. Mafferton, ‘ I haven’t been here since I 
was put into knickers ! ' I was surprised at this remark when 
I heard it, for Mr. Mafferton was usually elegant to a degree in 
his choice of terms ; but I should not be now. I have found 
nothing plainer in England than the language. Its simplicity 
and directness are a little startling at first, perhaps, to the 
foreign ear ; but this soon wears off as you become accustomed 
to it, and I dare say the foreigner begins to talk the same way — 
in which case my speech will probably be a matter of grave 
consideration to me when I get back to Chicago. In America 
we usually put things in a manner somewhat more involved. 
Yes, I know you are thinking of the old story about Americans 
draping the legs of their pianos; but if I were you I would 
discount that story. For my own part, I never in my life saw 
it done. 

The moment we were inside the main hall, where the 
orchestra was playing, before I had time to say more than ‘ How 
very interesting, Mr. Mafferton ! Who is that ? and why is he 
famous?’ Mr. Mafferton bought one of the red and gilt and 
green catalogues from the young woman at the door, and put it 
into my hand almost impulsively. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


107 


‘I fancy they’re very complete — and reliable, Miss Wick,’ 
he said. 4 You — you really mustn’t depend upon me. It’s such 
an unconscionable time since I left school.’ 

I told Mr. Mafferton I was sure that was only his modest 
waj of putting it, and that I knew he had reams of English 
history in his head if he would only just think of it ; and he 
replied, 4 No, really, upon my word, I have not ! ’ But by 
that time I realised that I was in the immediate society of all the 
remarkable old kings and queens of England ; and the emotions 
they inspired, standing round in that promiscuous touchable 
way, with their crowns on, occupied me so fully, that for at least 
ten minutes I found it quite interesting enough to look at them 
in silence. So I sat down on one of the seats in the middle of 
the hall, where people were listening to the orchestra’s selections 
from 4 The Gondoliers,’ and gave myself up to the curious captiva- 
tion of the impression. 4 It’s not bad,’ said Mr. Mafferton, 
reflectively, a little way off. 4 No,’ I said, 4 it’s beautiful ! ’ But 
I think he meant the selections, and I meant the kings and 
queens, to whom he was not paying the slightest attention. 
But I did not find fault with him for that — he had been, in a 
manner, brought up amongst these things ; he lived in a country 
that always had a king or queen of some sort to rule over it ; he 
was used to crowns and sceptres. He could not possibly have 
the same feelings as a person born in Chicago, and reared upon 
Republican principles. But to me those quaint groups of 
royalties in the robes and jewels of other times, and arrayed just 
as much in their characters as in their clothes — the characters 
everybody knows them by — were a source of pure and, while I 
sat there, increasing delight. I don’t mind confessing that I 
like the kings and queens at Madame Tussaud’s better than any- 
thing else I’ve seen in England, at the risk of being considered 


108 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 

a person of low intelligence. I know that Mr. James Russell 
Lowell — whom poppa always used to say he was proud to claim 
as a fellow-countryman, until he went Mugwump when Cleveland 
was elected — said of them that they were c much like any other 
English party’; but I should think from that that Mr. Lowell 
was perhaps a little prejudiced against waxworks, and intolerant 
of the form of art which they represent ; or, possibly, when he 
said it he had just come to London, and had not attended many 
English parties. For it seems to me that the peculiar charm 
and interest of the ladies and gentlemen at Madame Tussaud’s 
is the ingenuous earnestness with which they show you their 
temperaments and tastes and dispositions, which I have not 
found especially characteristic of other English ladies and gentle- 
men. As Lady Torquilin says, however, c that’s as it may be.’ 
All I know is, that whatever Mr. Lowell, from his lofty Harvard 
standard of culture, may find to say in deprecation of all that is 
left of your early sovereigns, I, from my humble Chicago point 
of view, was immensely pleased with them. I could not get 
over the feeling — I have not got over it yet — that they were, or 
at any rate had once been, veritable kings and queens. I had 
a sentiment of respect ; I could not think of them, as I told Mr. 
Maflerton, c as wax ’ ; and it never occurred to me that the crowns 
were brass and the jewels glass. Even now I find that an 
unpleasant reflection ; and I would not go back to Madame 
Tussaud’s on any account, for fear the brassiness of the crowns 
and the glassiness of the jewels might obtrude themselves the 
second time, and spoil the illusion. English history, with its 
moated castles, and knights in armour, and tyrant kings and 
virtuous queens, had always seemed more or less of a fairy tale to 
me — it is difficult to believe in mediaeval romance in America — 
and there, about me, was the fairy tale realised : all the curious 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


109 


old people who died of a c surfeit of lampreys/ or of a bad 
temper, or of decapitation, or in other ways which would be 
considered eccentric now, in all their dear old folds and fashions, 
red and blue and gold and ermine, with their crowns on ! 
There was a sociability among them, too, that I thought inte- 
resting, and that struck me as a thing I shouldn’t have expected, 
some of their characters being so very good, and some so very 
bad ; but I suppose, being all kings and queens, any other 
distinction would be considered invidious. I looked up while I 
was thinking about them, and caught Mr. Mafferton yawning. 

‘ Are you impressed ? ’ he said, disguising it with a smile. 

‘ Very much/ I answered him. ‘ In a way. Aren’t you ? ’ 

‘ I think they’re imbecile/ said Mr. Mafferton. ‘ Imbecile 
old Things ! I have been wondering what they could possibly 
suggest to you.’ 

Mr. Mafferton certainly spoke in that way. I remember it 
distinctly. Because I depended upon it in taking, as we went 
round, a certain freedom of criticism — depended upon it, I had 
reason to believe afterwards, unwarrantably. 

‘ Let us look at them individually/ I said, rising. ‘ Collec- 
tively, I find them lovable.’ 

‘Well, now, I envy them!’ replied Mr. Mafferton, with 
great coolness. This was surprisingly frivolous in Mr. 
Mafferton, who was usually quite what would be called a serious 
person, and just for a minute I did not quite know what to say. 
Then I laughed a little frivolously too. ‘ I suppose you intend 
that for a compliment, Mr. Mafferton/ I said. Privately, I 
thought it very clumsy. ‘ This is Number One, I think’ — and 
we stopped before William the Conqueror asking Matilda of 
Flanders to sit down. 

‘ I don’t know that I did/ said Mr. Mafferton — which made 


no AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 

the situation awkward for me ; for if there is an uncomfortable 
thing, it is to appropriate a compliment which was not intended. 
An Englishman is a being absolutely devoid of tact. 

4 So this is William the Conqueror ? ’ I said, by way of 
changing the subject. 

4 It may be a little like his clothes/ said Mr. Mafferton, 
indifferently. 

4 Oh ! don’t say that, Mr. Mafferton. I’m sure he looks every 
inch a William the Conqueror ! See how polite he is to his wife, 
too — I suppose that’s because he’s French ? ’ 

Mr. Mafferton didn’t say anything, and it occurred to me 
that perhaps I had not expressed myself well. 

4 Do you notice,’ I went on, 4 how he wears his crown — all 
tipped to one side ? He reminds me just a little, Mr. Mafferton, 
with that type of face — enterprising, you know — and hair that 
length, only it ought to be dark, and if the crown were only a 
wide-brimmed, soft felt hat — he reminds me very much of those 
Californian ranchers and miners Bret Harte and Joaquin Miller 
write about.’ 

4 Do you mean cowboys ? ’ asked Mr. Mafferton, in a way 
that told me he wasn’t going to agree with me. 

4 Yes, that kind of person. I think William the Conqueror 
would make a beautiful cowboy — a regular 44 Terror of the 
Canyon.” ’ 

4 Can’t say I see it,’ said Mr. Mafferton, fixing his eye upon 
the bass ’cello at the other end of the room. 

4 It isn’t in that direction,’ I said, and Mr. Mafferton became 
exceedingly red. Then it occurred to me that possibly over 
here that might be considered impertinent, so I did my best to 
make up for it. 4 A very nice face, isn’t it ? ’ I went on. 

4 What is he particularly noted for, Mr. Mafferton, besides the 



' 










u 


SO THIS IS WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 


! ” ’ 








1 12 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


Curfew, and the Doomsday Book, and introducing old families 
into England ? ’ 

Mr. Mafferton bit his moustache. I had never seen any- 
body bite his moustache before, though I had always understood 
from novels that it was done in England. Whether American 
gentlemen have better tempers, or whether they are afraid of 
injuring it, or why the habit is not a common one with us, I am 
unable to say. 

4 Really, Miss Wick,’ Mr. Mafferton responded, with six 
degrees of frost, 4 1 — is there nothing about it in the cata- 
logue ? He established the only date which would ever stick 
in my memory — 1066. But you mustn’t think he brought all 
the old families in England over with him, Miss Wick — it is 
incorrect.’ 

4 1 daresay,’ I said ; 4 people get such curious ideas about 
England in America, Mr. Mafferton.’ But that did not seem to 
please Mr. Mafferton either. 4 1 think they ought to know,’ he 
said, so seriously that I did not like to retaliate with any 
English misconceptions of American matters. And from what 
I know of Mr. Mafferton now, I do not think he would have seen 
the slightest parallel. 

4 How this brings it all back,’ I said, as we looked at 
William the Second, surnamed Rufus, in blue and yellow, with 
a plain front — 4 the marks in history at school, and the dates let 
in at the sides of the pages ! 44 His dead body, with an 

arrow sticking in it, was found by Purkiss, a charcoal-burner, 
and carried in a cart to Winchester, where it was buried in the 
Cathedral.” I remember I used to torment myself by wondering 
whether they pulled the arrow out, because in my history it 
didn’t say they did.’ 

4 It’s a fact,’ said Mr. Mafferton ; 4 one always does think of 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


1*3 


the old chap with the arrow sticking in him. Burne-Jones or 
one of those fellows ought to paint it — the forest, you know, 
twilight, and the charcoal-burner in a state of funk. Tremen- 
dously effective— though, I daresay, it’s been done scores of 
times . 5 

‘ And sold to be lithographed in advertisements ! 5 I added. 

‘Ah, Miss Wick, that is the utilitarian American way of 
looking at things ! 5 Mr. Mafferton remarked, jocularly ; and I 
don’t think I could have been expected to refrain from telling 
him that I had in mind a certain soap not manufactured in 
America. 

When we got as far as Henry the Second, Curtmantle, 
whom Madame Tussaud describes as a ‘ wise and good king , 5 
and who certainly has an amiable, open countenance, I noticed 
that all the crowns were different, and asked Mr. Mafferton 
about it — whether at that time every king had his crown made 
to order, and trimmed according to his own ideas, or had to 
take whatever crown was going ; and whether it was his to do as 
he liked with, or went with the throne; and if the majority of the 
kings had behaved properly about their crowns, and where they 
all were. But if Mr. Mafferton knew, he chose to be equivocal 
— he did not give me any answer that I feel I could rely upon 
sufficiently to put into print. Then we passed that nice 
brave crusading Richard the First, surnamed Coeur de Lion, in 
Borne domestic argument with his sweet Berengaria ; and Mr. 
Mafferton, talking about her, used the expression, ‘ Fair flower 
of Navarre . 5 But at that time he was carrying the catalogue. 

King John I thought delightful ; I could not have believed 
it possible to put such a thoroughly bad temper into wax, and I 
said so to Mr. Mafferton, who agreed with me, though without 
enthusiasm. ‘The worst king who ever sat on the English 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


JJ4 

throne ! ’ I repeated, meditatively, quoting from Madame 
Tussaud — 4 that’s saying a great deal, isn’t it, Mr. Mafferton ? ’ 
My escort said No, he couldn’t say he thought it represented 
such an acme of wickedness, and we walked on, past swarthy 
little sad Charles the Second, in armour and lace, who looks — 
and how could he help it ? — as if he were always thinking of what 
happened to his sire — I suppose the expression 4 poppa ’ is un- 
known among royalties. Mr. Mafferton would not agree to this 
either ; he seemed to have made up his mind not to agree to 
anything further. 

I should like to write a whole chapter about Henry the 
Eighth as he looked that day, though I daresay it is an 
habitual expression, and you may have seen it often yourself. 
He was standing in the midst of a group of ladies, including 
some of his wives, stepping forward in an impulsive, emotional 
way, listening, with grief in both his eyes, to the orchestra’s 
rendition of 

Bury I Bury ! Let the grave close o’er, 

as if deeply deprecating the painful necessity of again becoming 
a widower. It was beautiful to see the way the music worked 
upon his feelings. It will be impossible for me ever to think 
so badly of him again. 

4 What is your impression of him ? ’ asked Mr. Mafferton. 

I said I thought he was too funny for words. 

4 He was a monster ! ’ my friend remarked, 4 and you are 
quite the first person, I should say, who has ever discovered 
anything humorous in him.’ And I gathered from Mr. 
Mafferton’s tone that, while it was pardonable to think badly of 
an English monarch, it was improper to a degree to find him 
amusing. 

Then T observed that they were all listening with Henry the 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


1*5 


Eighth — Philippa of Hainault with her pink nose, and the 
Black Prince in mail, and Catharine of Arragon embracing her 
monkey, and Cardinal Wolsey in red, and Caxton in black, and 
Chaucer in poet’s grey, listening intently — you could tell even 
by their reflections in the glass — as the orchestra went on — 

The days that have been, and never shall be more ! 

Personally, I felt sorry for them all, even for that old maid in 
armour, James the Second. Mr. Mafferton, by the way, could 
see nothing in the least old-maidish about this sovereign. 
They must have had, as a rule, such a very good time while 
it lasted — it must have been so thoroughly disagreeable to die ! 
I wanted immensely to ask Mr. Mafferton — but somehow his 
manner did not encourage me to do it — whether in those very 
early times kings were able to wear their crowns every day 
without exciting comment, as Madame Tussaud distinctly gives 
you the idea that they did. And it seemed to me that in those 
days it must have been really worth while to be a king, and be 
different from other people, in both dress and deportment. I 
would not go through the other rooms, because I did not believe 
anything could be more beautiful than the remains of your 
early sovereigns, and, moreover, Mr. Mafferton was getting so 
very nearly sulky that I thought I had better not. But just 
through the door I caught a glimpse of one or two American 
Presidents in black, with white ties. They had intelligent faces, 
but beside your Plantagenets I don’t mind confessing they didn’t 
look anything! 


Ii6 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


XI 

I HAD not the least expectation of being fortunate enough to 
see your Parliament open, having always heard that all the 
peeresses wanted to go on that occasion, and knowing how little 
sitting accommodation you had for anybody. Americans find 
nothing more impressive in England than the difficulty of get- 
ting a look at your system of government — our own is so very 
accessible to everyone who chooses to study it, and to come and 
sit in the general gallery of the House of Congress or the Senate 
without making a disturbance. The thing an American tells 
first, and with most pride, when he comes home after visiting 
England, is that he has attended a sitting of Parliament and 
seen Mr. Gladstone ; if he has heard your veteran politician 
speak, he is prouder still. So I had cherished the hope of some- 
how getting into the House while Parliament was in session, and 
seeing all the people we read so much about at home in connec- 
tion with the Irish Question — it was the thing, I believe, I had 
set my heart upon doing most ; but tickets for the opening of 
Parliament from Mr. Mafferton, with a note informing Lady 
Torquilin that his cousin had promised to look after us on the 
occasion, represented more than my highest aspiration. 

Lady Torquilin was pleased, too, though I don’t think she 
intended to express her pleasure when she said, with an air of 
philosophical acceptance of whatever Fate might send, ‘ Provi- 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 117 

dence only knows, my dear, how the old man will behave ! He 
may be as agreeable as possible — as merry as a grig — and he 
may be in a temper like the 9 ; and Lady Torqnilin com- 

pressed her lips and nodded her head in a way that told me how 
her remark would finish if she were not a member of the Church 
of England, rather low, and a benefactor to deep-sea fishermen 
and Dr. Barnardo, with a strong objection to tobacco in any 
form. 4 We must avoid subjects that are likely to provoke him : 
local self-government for Ireland has given him apoplexy 
twice ; I’ve heard of his getting awful tantrums about this last 
Licensing Bill ; and marriage with a deceased wife’s sister, I 
know, is a thing to avoid ! 9 

Then it dawned upon me that this was Mr. Mafferton’s 
cousin, who was a lord, and I had a very great private satisfac- 
tion that I should see what he was like. 

4 1 remember/ I said. 4 This is the cousin that you said was 
an old ’ 

4 Brute ! 9 Lady Torquilin finished for me, seeing that I 
didn’t quite like to. 4 So he is, when he’s in a rage ! I wouldn’t 
be Lady Mafferton, poor dear, for something! An ordinary 
44 K ” and an ordinary temper for me ! 9 I asked Lady Tor- 
quilin what she meant by 4 an ordinary K ’ ; and in the next half- 
hour I got a lesson on the various distinctions of the English 
aristocracy that interested me extremely. Lady Torquilin’s 4 K/ 
I may say, while I am talking about it, was the 4 C.M.G.’ kind, 
and not the 4 K ’ sometimes conferred late in life upon illustrious 
butchers. Lady Torquilin didn’t seem to think much of this 
kind of 4 K/ but I was glad to hear of it. It must be a great 
encouragement to honesty and industry in the humbler walks of 
life, or, as yon would say, among the masses; and though, I 
suppose, it wouldn’t exactly accord with our theory of govern- 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


1 18 

ment, I am sorry we have nothing even remotely like it in 
America. 

It was a nice day, a lovely day, an extraordinary day, the 
February day Lady Torquilin and I compromised upon a hansom 
and drove to the Parliament buildings. A person has such a 
vivid, distinct recollection of nice days in London ! The drive 
knocked another of my preconceived ideas to pieces — the idea 
that Westminster was some distance off, and would have to be 
reached by train — not quite so far, perhaps, as Washington is 
from New York, for that would just as likely as not put it in 
the sea, but a considerable distance. I suppose you will think 
that inexcusable ; but it is very difficult to be enough interested 
in foreign capitals to verify vague impressions about them, and 
Westminster is a large-sounding name, that suggests at least a 
mayor and a town council of its own. It was odd to find it 
about twenty minutes from anywhere in London, and not to 
know exactly when you had arrived until the cab rolled under 
the shadow of the Abbey, and stopped in the crowd that aited 
to cheer the great politicians. Lady Torquilin immediately 
asked one of the policemen which way to go — I don’t know any- 
body who appreciates what you might call the encyclopaedic 
value of the London police more that Lady Torquilin — and he 
waved us on. 4 Straight ahead, madame, and turn in at the 
’orseback statyou,’ he said, genially, the distance being not more 
than two hundred yards from where we stood, and the turning- 
in point visible. On the way, notwithstanding, Lady Tor- 
quilin asked two other policemen. My friend loves the peace of 
mind that follows absolute certainty. Presently we were fol- 
lowing the rustling elegance of two or three tall ladies, whom I 
at once pronounced to be peeresses, through the broad, quiet, 
red corridor that leads to the House of Lords. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


n 9 


We were among the very first, and had our choice of the 
long, narrow seats that run along the wall in a terrace on each 
side of the Chamber. Fortunately, Lady Torquilin had attended 
other openings of Parliament, and knew that we must sit on the 
left; otherwise we might just as likely as not have taken our 
places on the other side, where there were only two or three old 
gentlemen with sticks and silk hats — which, I reflected after- 
wards, would have been awful. But, as it happened, we sat down 
very decorously in our proper places, and I tried to realise, as we 
looked at the crowded galleries and the long, narrow, solemn 
crimson room with the throne-chair at one end, that I was in 
thp British House of Lords. Our Senate, just before the open- 
ing of Congress, is so very different. Most of the senators are 
grey-haired, and many of them are bald, but they all walk about 
quite nimbly, and talk before the proceedings begin with a 
certain vivacity ; and there are pages running round with notes 
and documents, and a great many excited groups in the lobbies, 
and a general air of crisp business and alacrity everywhere. The 
only thing I could feel in the House of Lords that morning 
was a concentrated atmospheric essence of Importance. I 
was thinking of a thing Senator Ingalls said to me two years 
ago, which was what you would call 4 comic,’ when the idea 
struck me that it was almost time for Parliament to open, 
and not a single peer had arrived. So I asked Lady Torquilin 
when the lords might be expected to come in. Up to this 
time we had been discussing the millinery by which we were 
surrounded. 

4 I daresay there won’t be many to-day,’ said Lady Torquilin. 
4 Certainly very few so far ! ’ 

4 Are there any here ? ’ I asked her. 

4 Oh, yes — just opposite, don’t you see, child! That well- 
9 


120 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


set-up man with the nice, wholesome face, the third from the 
end in the second row from the bottom — that’s Lord Rosebery ; 
and next him is the great beer-man — I forget his title ; and 
here is Lord MafFerton now — don’t look — coming into the first 
row from the bottom, and leaning over to shake hands with 
Lord Rosebery.’ 

1 Tell me when I can look,’ I said, c because I want to 
awfully. But, Lady Torquilin, are those peers? They look 
very respectable and nice, I’m sure, but I did expect more in 
the way of clothes. Where are their flowing mantles, and their 
chains and swords and things ? ’ 

‘ Only when the Queen opens Parliament in person,’ said 
Lady Torquilin. ‘Then there is a turn-out! Now you can 
look at Lord Maflerton — the rude old man ! Fancy his having 
the impudence to sit there with his hat on ! ’ 

I looked at Lord Maflerton, who certainly had not removed 
his hat — the large, round, shiny silk hat worn by every gentle- 
man in England, and every commercial traveller in America. 
Under the hat he was very pink and fat, with rather a snubby 
nose, and little twinkling blue eyes, and a suggestion of white 
whisker about the place where his chin and his cheek disap- 
peared into his neck. He wore lavender-kid gloves, and was 
inclined to corpulency. I should not have trusted this descrip- 
tion of a peer of your realm if it had come from any other 
American pen than my own — I should have set it down as a 
gross exaggeration, due to envy, from the fact that we can neither 
produce peers in our own country nor keep them there for any 
length of time ; but I was obliged to believe my own eyes, and 
that is the way they reported Lord Maflerton from the other side 
of your Upper House. There were other gentlemen in the rows 
opposite — gentlemen all in black, and gentlemen in light waist- 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


121 


coats, bearded and clean-shaven, most of them elderly, but a few 
surprisingly middle-aged — for your natural expectation is to see 
a peer venerable — but I must say there was not one that I 
would have picked out to be a peer, for any particular reason, 
in the street. And it seemed to me that, since they are consti- 
tutional, as it were, there ought to be some way of knowing 
thdiii I reasoned again, however, that perhaps my lack of dis- 
crimination was due to my not being accustomed to seeing peers 
— that possibly the delicate distinctions and values that make 
up a peer would be perfectly evident to a person born, so to 
speak, under the shadow of the aristocracy. And in the mean- 
time the proceedings began by everybody standing up. I don’t 
know whether I actually expected a procession and a band, but 
when I discovered that we were all standing while four or five 
gentlemen in red gowns walked to the other end of the room 
and took chairs, my emotions were those of blank surprise. 
Presently I felt Lady Torquilin give an emphatic tug to my 
skirt. 4 Sit down, child ! ’ she said. 4 Everybody else has ! Do 
you want to make a speech ? ’ — and I sat down quickly. Then I 
observed that a gentleman in black, also in fancy dress, was 
reading something indistinctly to the four or five red-gowned 
gentlemen, who looked very solemn and stately, but said nothing. 
It was so difficult for a stranger to understand, that I did not 
quite catch what was said to another gentleman in black with 
buckled shoes, but it must have been to the purport of 4 Go and 
fetch it ! ’ for he suddenly began to walk out backwards, stop- 
ping at every few steps to bow with great deference to them of 
the red gowns, which must have been very trying, for nobody 
returned the bows, and he never could tell who might have 
come in behind him. 4 1 suppose he has gone out for a minute 
to get something,’ I said to Lady Torquilin ; and then she told 


122 


AN A MEXICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


me what, of course, I ought to have known if I had refreshed 
myself with a little English history before starting — that he was 
the Usher of the Black Bod, and had been sent to bring the 
members of the other Parliament. And presently there was a 
great sound of footsteps in the corridors outside, and your House 
of Commons came hurrying to the ‘ bar,’ I believe it is called, of 
your House of Lords. It was wonderfully interesting to look at, 
to a stranger, that crowd of members of your Lower House as it 
came, without ceremony, to the slender brass rod and stopped 
there, because it could come no farther — pressing against it, 
laying hands upon it, craning over it, and yet held back by the 
visible and invisible force of it. Compared with the well-fed 
and well-groomed old gentlemen who sat comfortably inside, 
these outsiders looked lean and unkempt ; but there were so 
many of them, and they seemed so much more in earnest than 
the old gentlemen on the benches, that the power of the brass 
rod seemed to me extraordinary. I should not have been an 
American if I had not wondered at it, and whether the peers in 
mufti would not some day be obliged to make a habit of dressing 
up in their mantles and insignia on these occasions to impress 
the Commoners properly with a sense of difference and a reason 
for their staying outside. 

Then, as soon as they were all ready to pay attention, the 
Vice-Chancellor read the Queen’s letter, in which Her Majesty, 
so far as I could understand, regretted her inability to be 
present, told them all a good deal about what she had been doing 
since she wrote last, and closed by sending her kind regards and 
best wishes — a very pleasant letter, I thought, and well- written. 
Then we all stood up again while the gentlemen in red, the Lord 
Chancellor, and the others walked out; after which everybody 
dispersed, and I found myself shaking hands with Lord Maffer- 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


123 


ton in a pudgy, hearty way, as lie and Lady Torquilin and I 
departed together. 

c So this is our little Yankee ! 9 said Lord Mafferton, with 
his fat round chin stretched out sideways, and his hands behind 
his back. Now I am quite five-feet eight, and I do not like 
being called names, 
but I found a diffi- 
culty in telling 
Lord Mafferton 
that I was not their 
little Yankee ; so I 



smiled, and said 
nothing. 1 Well, 
well ! Come over 
the “ duckpond ” 

— isn’t that what 
you call the Atlan- 
tic Ocean ? — to see 
how fast old Eng- 
land is going to 
pieces, eh ? ’ 

£ Oh ! ’ said Lady Torquilin, c I think Miss Wick is delighted 
with England, Lord Mafferton.’ 

c Yes,’ I said, ‘ I am. Delighted with it ! Why should any- 
body think it is going to pieces ? ’ 

c Oh, it’s a popular fancy in some quarters,’ said Lord 


LORD MAFFERTON. 


124 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


MafFerton. Being a lord, I don’t suppose lie winked at Ladj 
Torquilin, but he did something very like it. 

4 1 should call it a popular fallacy,’ I declared; at which 
Lord MafFerton laughed, and said, 4 It was all very well, it was 
all very well,’ exactly like any old grandpapa. 4 Miss Wick 
would like a look over the place, I suppose,’ he said to Lady 
Torquilin. 4 You think it would be safe, eh? No explosives 
concealed about her — she doesn’t think of blowing us up ? 9 
And this very jocular old peer led the way through a labyrinth 
of chambers and corridors of which I can’t possibly remember 
the locality or the purpose, because he went so fast. 

4 No doubt you’ve heard of Cromwell,’ he said beside one 
door. I should have liked to know why he asked me, if there 
was no doubt of it ; but I suppose a lord is not necessarily a 
logician. 4 This is the room in which he signed the death- 
warrant of Charles the First.’ 

4 Dear me,’ I said. 4 The one that he’s holding a copy of 
on his lap at Madame Tussaud’s ? ’ 

4 1 dare say ! I dare say ! ’ said Lord MafFerton. 4 But not 
so fast, my dear young lady, not so fast ! You mustn’t go in, 
you know. That’s not allowable ! ’ and he whisked us away to 
the Library. 4 Of course, Miss Wick understands,’ he said to Lady 
Torquilin, 4 that every word spoken here above a whisper means 
three days in a dungeon on bread and water ! ’ By this time 
my ideas of peers had become so confused that I was entirely 
engaged in trying to straighten them out, and had very little 
to say of any sort ; but Lord MafFerton chatted continually as 
we walked through the splendid rooms, only interrupting him- 
self now and then to remind me of the dungeon and the penalty 
of talking. It was very difficult getting a first impression of 
the English House of Parliament and an English peer at the 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 12 ; 

same time — they continually interrupted each other. It was in 
the Royal Banqueting Hall, for instance, where I was doing my 
best to meditate upon scenes of the past, that Lord Mafferton 
stated to Lady Torquilin his objection to the inside of an omnibus, 
and this in itself was distracting. It would never occur to any- 
body in America to think of a peer and an omnibus together. 
Ti e vestibule of the House of Commons was full of gentlemen 
walking about and talking ; but there was a great deliberateness 
about the way it was done — no excitement, and every man in his 
silently-expressive silk hat. They all seemed interested in each 
other in an observing way, too, and whether to bow or not to bow ; 
and when Lord Mafferton recognised any of them, he was usually 
recognised back with great cordiality. You don’t see so much 
of that when Congress opens. The members in the lobby are 
usually a great deal too much wrapped up in business to take 
much notice of each other. I observed, too, that the British 
Government does not provide cuspidores for its legislators, which 
struck me as reflecting very favourably upon the legislative sense 
of propriety here, especially as there seemed to be no obvious 
demand for such a thing. 

‘Bless you, my dear young lady, you mustn’t go in there ! 9 
exclaimed Lord Mafferton at the door of the House, as I stepped 
in to take a perfectly inoffensive look at it. 4 Out with you 
quick, or they’ll have you off to the Tower before you can say 
George Washington ! ’ 

4 But why ? ’ I asked, quite breathless with my sudden exit. 

4 Young people should never ask “why?”’ said Lord 
Mafferton, serio-comically. 4 Thank your American stars that 
Salisbury or any of those fellows were not about ! 9 

This peer evidently thought I was very, very young — about 
twelve 3 but I have noticed since that not only peers, but all 


126 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


agreeable old gentlemen in England, have a habit of dating you 
back in this way. It is a kindly, well-meant attitude, but it 
leaves you without very much to say. 



‘ DISARRANGED MY FEATURES FOR LIFE 1 




AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


127 


I thought feminine privileges in your House of Commons very 
limited indeed then, but considerably more so when I attended a 
sitting with Lady Torquilin a week later, and disarranged my 
features for life trying to look through the diamonds of the iron 
grating with which Parliament tries to screen itself from the 
criticism of its lady relations. Lord Mafferton came up that 
day with us, and explained that the grating was to prevent the 
ladies from throwing themselves at the heads of the unmarried 
members — a singular precaution. The only other reason I could 
hear why it should not be taken down was that nobody had done 
it since it was put up — a remarkably British reason, and calcu- 
lated, as most things seem to be in this country, to last. 

And I saw your Prince that afternoon. He came into the 
Peers’ Gallery in a light overcoat, and sat down with two or 
three friends to watch his people governing their country below. 
He seemed thoroughly interested, and at times, when Mr. O’Brien 
or Mr. O’Connor said something that looked toward the dis- 
memberment of his empire, amused. And it was an instructive 
sight to see your future king pleased and edified, and unen- 
cumbered by any disagreeable responsibilities, looking on. 


u8 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


XII 

I TOLD Lady Torquilin that the expression struck me as 
profane. 

i How ridiculous you are, child ! It’s a good old English 
word. Nobody will understand you if you talk about your 
“ rubbers ” in this country. “ Goloshes,” certainly. G-o- 
1-o-s-h-e-s, “ goloshes.” Now, go directly and put them on, 
and don’t be impertinent about the English language in Eng- 
land, whatever you may be out of it ! ’ 

I went away murmuring, ‘ “ G-o-l-o-s-h-e-s, goloshes” ! 
What a perfectly awful — literally unutterable word ! No, I love 
Lady Torquilin, and I like her England, but I’ll never, never, 
never say “ goloshes ” ! I’d almost rather swear ! ’ And as I 
slipped on the light, thin, flexible articles manufactured, I 
believe, in Rochester, N.Y., and privately compared them with 
the remarkable objects worn by the British nation for the 
purpose of keeping its feet dry, the difference in the descriptive 
terms gave me a certain satisfaction. 

Lady Torquilin and I were going shopping. I had been 
longing to shop in London ever since I arrived, but, as Lady 
Torquilin remarked, my trunks seemed to make it almost un- 
reasonable. So up to this time I had been obliged to content 
myself with looking at the things in the windows, until Lady 
Torquilin said she really couldn’t spend so much time in front 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


129 


of shop-windows — we had better go inside. Besides, she 
argued, of course there was this to be said — if you bought a good 
thing, there it was — always a good thing ! 4 And it isn’t as if 

you were obliged to pinch, my dear. I would be the last one 
to counsel extravagance,’ said Lady Torquilin. 4 Therefore 
we’ll go to the cheapest place first ’ — and we got an omnibus. It 
seemed full of people who were all going to the cheapest place, 
and had already come, some of them a long way, to go to it, 
judging by their fares. They were not poor people, nor 
respectably-darned people, nor shabby-genteel people. Some of 
them looked like people with incomes that would have enabled 
them to avoid the cheapest place, and some gave you the idea 
that, if it were not for the cheapest place, they would not look 
so well. But they had an invariable expression of content 
with the cheapest place, or appreciation of it, that made me 
quite certain they would all get out when we stopped there ; 
and they did. 

We went in with a throng that divided and hurried hither 
and thither through long 4 departments,’ upstairs and down, past 
counters heaped with cheapnesses, and under billowing clouds 
and streaming banners of various colours, marked Is. 1 \d. and 
Ilf d. in very black letters on a very white ground. The whole 
place spoke of its cheapness, invited you to approach and have 
your every want supplied at the lowest possible scale of profit — fo‘f 
cash. Even the clerks — as we say in America, incorrectly, I 
believe — the people behind the counter suggested the sweet 
reasonableness of the tariff ; not that I mean anything invidious, 
but they seemed to be drawn from an unpretending, inexpensive 
class of humanity. The tickets claimed your attention every- 
where, and held it, the prices on them were so remarkably low ; 
and it was to me at first a matter of regret that they were all 


130 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


attached to articles I could not want under any circumstances. 
For, the moment I went in, I succumbed to the cheapest place ; 
T desired to avail myself of it to any extent — to get the benefit 



‘ THE WHOLE PLACE SPOKE OF ITS CHEAPNESS ’ 

of those fascinating figures personally and immediately. I fol- 
lowed Lady Torquilin with eagerness, exclaiming : but nothing 
would induce her to stop anywhere ; she went straight for the 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


m 


trifles she wanted, and I perforce after her. ‘There are some 
things, my dear/ she said, when we reached the right counter, 

4 that one must come here for, but beyond those few odds and 
ends — well, I leave you to judge for yourself/ 

This was calculated to dash a person’s enthusiasm, and mine 
was dashed at once. There is nothing, in shopping, like a 
friend’s firm and outspoken opinion, to change your views. I 
began to think unfavourably of the cheapest place immediately, 
and during the twenty-five minutes of valuable time which Lady 
Torquilin spent, in addition to some small silver, upon a box of 
pink paper trimmings for pudding-dishes, I had arrived at a state 
of objection to the cheapest place, which intensified as we 
climbed more stairs, shared more air with the British Public of 
the cheapest place, and were jostled at more counters. 4 For/ 
Lady Torquilin said, 4 now that we are here, though I loathe 
coming, except that it’s something you ought to do, we really 
might as well see what there is ! ’ — and she found that there were 
quite a number of little things at about a shilling and a ha’penny 
that she absolutely needed, and would have to pay 4 just double 
for, my dear, anywhere else.’ By that time my objection be- 
came active, and embraced the cheapest place and everything 
connected with it, quite unreasonably. For there was no doubt 
about the genuineness of the values offered all over its counters, 
or about the fact that the clerks were doing the best they could 
to sell seven separate shillings’- worth at the same moment to 
different individuals, or of the respectability of the seven people 
who were spending the seven shillings. It would have been a 
relief, indeed, to have detected something fraudulent among the 
bargains, or some very great adventuress among the customers. 
It was the deadly monotony of goodishness and cheapishness in 
everything and everybody that oppressed you. There were no 


132 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


heights of excellence and no contrasting depths — all one level of 
quality wherever you looked — so that the things they sold at the 
cheapest place — sold with mechanical respect, and as fast as they 
could tie them up — seemed to lack all individuality, and to have 
no reason for being, except to become parcels. There was none 
of the exultation of bargain-getting ; the bargains were on a 
regular system of fixed laws — the poetic delight of an unex- 
pected 4 reduction 5 was wholly absent. The cheapest place 
resolved itself into a vast, well-organised Opportunity, and inside 
you saw the British Public and the Opportunity together. 

11 ’Ere is your chainge, madam,’ said the hollow-eyed young 
woman who had been waiting upon Lady Torquilin in the matter 
of a letter-weight and a Japanese umbrella. ‘Thank you,’ 
said Lady Torquilin. 4 I’m afraid you get very tired, don’t you, 
before the day is over?’ my friend asked the young woman, 
with as sweet a smile as she could have given anybody. The 
young woman smiled back again, and said, 4 Very, inadame’; but 
that was all, for three other people wanted her. I put this in 
because it is one of the little things she often says that show the 
niceness of Lady Torquilin. 

4 Now, what do you think of the cheapest place ? ’ asked Lady 
Torquilin as we walked together in the Edgware Road. I told 
her as I have told you. 4 H’mph ! ’ said she. 4 It’s not a shop 
I like myself, but that’s what I call being too picksome ! You 
get what you want, and if you don’t want it you leave it, and 
why should you care ! Now, by way of variety, we’ll go to the 
dearest place ; ’ and the omnibus we got into rattled off in the 
direction of Bond Street. It struck me then, and often since, 
how oddly different London is from an American city to go 
shopping in. At home the large, important stores are pretty 
much together, in the business part of the city, and anybody can 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


133 


tell from the mere buildings what to expect in the way of style 
and price. In London you can’t tell at all, and the well-knowr. 
shops are scattered over square miles of streets, by twos and 
threes, in little individual towns, each with its own congregation 
of smaller shops, and its own butchers and bakers and news- 
stands, and post-office and squares and 4 places,’ and blind alleys 
and strolling cats and hand organs ; and to get from one to 
another of the little towns it is necessary to make a journey in 
an omnibus. Of course, I know there are a few places pre- 
eminent in reputation and 4 form ’ and price — above all in price — 
which gather in a few well-known streets ; but life in all these 
little centres which make up London would be quite complete 
without them. They seem to exist for the benefit of that extra- 
vagant element here that has nothing to do with the small respect- 
able houses and the little domestic squares, but hovers over the 
city during the time of year when the sun shines and the fogs 
are not, living during that time in notable localities, under the 
special inspection of the 4 Morning Post.’ The people who 
really live in London — the people of the little centres — can quite 
well ignore these places ; they have their special shop in 
Uxbridge Road or St. Paul’s Churchyard, and if they tire of 
their own particular local cut, they can make morning trips from 
Uxbridge Road to the High Street, Kensington, or from either 
lo Westbourne Grove. To Americans this is very novel and 
amusing, and we get a great deal of extra pleasure out of shop- 
ping in London in sampling, so to speak, the different sub- 
municipalities. 

While 1 was thinking these things, Lady Torquilin poked 
me with her parasol from the other end of the omnibus. 
4 Tell him to stop ! ’ she said, and I did ; at least, the gentleman 
in the corner made the request for me*. That gentleman in the 


134 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


corner is a feature of your omnibus system, I think. His arm, 
or his stick, or his umbrella, is always at the service of any lady 



‘that gentleman in the corner is a feature of your omnibus system, 

I think ’ 


who wants the bell rung. It seems to be a duty that goes with 
the corner seat, cheerfully accepted by every man that sits there. 




AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


*35 


We had arrived in Bond Street, at the dearest place. 
From what Lady Torquilin told me, I gathered that Bond Street 
was a regular haunt for dearest places; but it would be im- 
possible for any stranger to suppose so from walking through it 
— it is so narrow and crooked and irregular, and the shops are 
so comparatively insignificant after the grand sweep of Regent 
Street and the wide variety of the circuses. For one, I should 
have thought circuses would be the best possible places for busi- 
ness in London, not only because the address is so easily remem- 
bered, but because once you get into them they are so extremely 
difficult to get out of. However, a stranger never can tell. 

Inside, the dearest place was a stronger contrast to the 
cheapest place than I could describe by any antithesis. There 
was an exclusive emptiness about it that seemed to suggest a 
certain temerity in coming in, and explained, considered com- 
mercially, why the rare visitors should have such an expensive 
time of it. One or two tailor-made ladies discussed something 
in low tones with an assistant, and beside these there was no- 
body but a couple of serious-minded shopwalkers, some very 
elegant young ladies-in-waiting, and the dummies that called 
your attention to the fashions they were exhibiting. The 
dummies were headless, but probably by the variety of their 
clothes they struck you as being really the only personalities in the 
shop. We looked at some of them before advancing far into the 
august precincts of the dearest place, and Lady Torquilin had a 
sweeping opinion of them. 1 Hideous ! I call them,’ she said; 
but she said it in rather a hushed tone, quite different from the 
one she would have used in the cheapest place, and I am sure 
the shopwalker did not overhear. ‘ Bulgarian atrocities ! How 
in the world people imagine such things ! And as to setting to 
work to make them * 


10 


136 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 

I can’t say I agreed with Lady Torquilin, for there was a 
distinct idea in all the dresses, and a person always respects an 
idea, whether it is pretty or not ; but neither can I profess an 
admiration for the fashions of the dearest place. They were 
rather hard and unsympathetic; they seemed to sacrifice every- 
thing to be in some degree striking ; their motto seemed to be, 
£ Let us achieve a difference ’ — presumably from the fashions of 
places that were only dear in the comparative degree. While 
we were looking at them, one of the pale young women strolled 
languidly up and remarked, with an absent expression, that one 
of them was 4 considered a smart little gown, moddam ! ’ 4 Smart 
enough, I daresay,’ said Lady Torquilin, with a slightly invidious 
emphasis on the adjective ; whereat the young woman said 
nothing, but looked volumes of repressed astonishment at the 
ignorance implied. Lady Torquilin went on to describe the kind 
of dress I thought of buying. 

4 Certainly, moddam ! Will you take a seat, moddam ? 
Something quite simple I think you said, moddam, and in 
muslin. I’ll be with you in one moment, moddam.’ And the 
young woman crawled away with the negligence that became 
the dearest place. After an appreciable time she returned with 
her arms full of what they used to call, so very correctly, 4 fur- 
belows,’ in spotted and flowered muslins. 

4 Dearie me ! ’ said Lady Torquilin. 4 That’s precisely what 
I wore when I was a girl ! ’ 

4 Yes, moddam ! ’ said the young woman, condescending to 
the ghost of a smile. 4 The old styles are all cornin’ in again’ — 
at which burst of responsiveness she suddenly brought herself 
up sharply, and assumed a manner which forbade you to pre- 
sume upon it. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


1 37 


I picked up one of the garlanded muslins and asked the price 
of it. It had three frills round the bottom and various irrele- 
vant ribbon-bows. 

‘ Certainly, moddam ! One 
moment, moddam ! ’ as she 
looked at the ticket attached. 

‘ This one is seventeen guineas, 
moddam. Silk foundation. A 
Paris model, moddam, but I 
dare say we could copy it for 
you for less.’ 

Lady Torquilin and I made 
a simultaneous movement, and 
looked at each other in the 
expressive way that all ladies 
understand who go shopping 
with each other. 

c Thanks ! ’ I said. * It is 
much too expensive for me.’ 

c We have nothing of this 
style under fifteen guineas, 
moddam,’ replied the young 
woman, with a climax of weary 
frigidity. ‘ Then, shall we go ? ’ 

I asked Lady Torquilin — and 
we went. 

• What a price ! ’ said Lady 
Torquilin, as we left the dearest 
place behind us. 

I said I thought it was an insult — eighty-five dollars for a 
ready-made sprigged muslin dress ! — to the intelligence of the 



THE YOUNG WOMAN CRAWLED AWAY WITH 
THE NEGLIGENCE THAT BECAME THE 
DEAREST PLACE ’ 


138 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


people who were expected to buy it. That, for my part, I should 
feel a distinct ]oss of self-respect in buying anything at the 

dearest place. What would I be 
paying for ? 

‘ For being able to say that it 
came from the dearest place,’ said 
Lady Torquilin. c But I thought 
you Americans didn’t mind what 
anything cost.’ 

That misconception of Lady 
Torquilin’s is a popular one, and I 
was at some pains to rectify it. ‘ We 
don’t,' I said, c if we recognise the 
fairness of it ; but nobody resents 
being imposed upon more than an 
American, Lady Torquilin. We 
have our idiots, like other nations, 
and I daresay a good many of them 
come to London every year and deal 
exclusively at the dearest place ; but 
as a nation, though we don’t scrimp, 
we do like the feeling that we are 
paying for value received.’ 

c Well,’ said Lady Torquilin, c I 
believe that is the case. I know 
Americans talk a great deal about 
the price of things — more, I consider, 
than is entertaining sometimes.’ I 
said I knew they did — it was a 
national fault — and what did Lady Torquilin think the dress 
I had on cost, just to compare it with that muslin, and 



‘A PERSON OF GREAT DIGNITY 
IN HIGH, BLACK SLEEVES ’ 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 13Q 

Chicago was by no means a cheap place for anything. Lady 
Torquilin said she hadn’t an idea — our dollars were so difficult 
to reckon in; but what did I think hers came to — and not 
a scrap of silk lining about it. And so the time slipped away 
until we arrived in the neighbourhood of Cavendish Square, 
at what Lady Torquilin called ‘ the happy medium,’ where 
the windows were tempting, and the shopwalker smiled, and 
the lady-in-waiting was a person of great dignity, in high, 
black sleeves, with a delightful French accent when she talked, 
which she very seldom forgot, and only contradicted when she 
said 4 ’Ow ’ and 4 ’elliotrope,’ and where things cost just about 
what they did in America. I have gone very patiently ever 
since to the happy medium, partly to acquire the beautiful com- 
posure of the lady-in-waiting, partly to enjoy the respect 
which all Americans like so much in a well-conducted English 
shop, and partly because at the happy medium they understand 
how to turn shopping into the pleasant artistic pastime it ought 
to be, which everybody in America is in far too much of a hurry 
to make a fortune and retire to do for his customers. I am on 
the most agreeable footing with the lady in the sleeves now, and 
I have observed that, as our acquaintance progresses, her com- 
mand of English consonantal sounds remarkably increases. Bi t 
I have never been able to reconcile myself, even theoretically, 
either to the cheapest place, in the Edgware Road, or the dearest 
place, in Bond Street. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


140 


XIII 



c 4 S a nation I can’t bear ’em — indi- 
vidually, I like ’em fairly well,’ read 
out Lady Torquilin from a letter at break- 
fast. ‘ Bless me ! ’ my friend went on, 

‘ she’s talking about Americans, and she’s 
coming to see “ your specimen ” — mean- 
ing you, child — this very afternoon.’ 

So she did. She came to see me that 
very afternoon — the lady who couldn’t 
bear us as a nation, but individually liked 
us fairly well. Her name was Corke, 
and she belonged, Lady Torquilin said, to 
the Corkes. I heard all about her before 
she came. She was a lady of moderate 
income, unmarried, about ten years older 
than I was. She knew all about every- 
thing. ‘ You never saw such a reader, 
my dear ! I won’t say it happens often, for that it does not, but 
Peter Corke has made me feel like a perfect ignoramus.’ 

4 Peter Corke ? ’ 1 said, with some surprise. 
c Too ridiculous, I call it ! Her proper name is Catharine 
Clarissa, but she hates her proper name — sensible girl as she is 
in every other way — prefers Peter ! And if she happens to take 
a fancy to you, she will tell you all manner of interesting 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 141 

things. For old holes and corners, I always say, go to Peter 
Corke.’ 

‘ I’m glad,’ I said, c that she likes us, individually, fairly well 
— it’s the only way in which I would have any chance ! Rut 
she won’t like my accent.’ 

4 If she doesn’t,’ Lady Torquilin said, ‘ I promise you she’ll 
tell you. And you won’t mind a bit.’ 

When Miss Corke arrived I forgot entirely about the doubt- 
fulness of her liking me — I was too much absorbed in liking her. 
She was rather a small person, with a great deal of dignity in 
her shoulders and a great deal of humour in her face — the most 
charming face I have seen in England, and I can’t even make 
an exception in favour of the Princess of Wales. I may tell you 
that she had delightful twinkling brown eyes, and hair a shade 
darker, and the colour and health and energy that only an 
English woman possesses at thirty, without being in the least 
afraid that you could pick her out in the street, or anywhere — 
she would not like that — and being put in print, so that 
pt ople would know her, at all ; it’s a thing I wouldn’t do on any 
account, knowing her feelings. It is only because I am so well 
convinced that I can’t tell you what she was like that I try, 
which you may consider a feminine reason, if you want to. 
Miss Peter Corke’s personality made you think at once of Santa 
Claus and a profound philosopher — could you have a more diffi- 
cult combination to describe than that ? While you listened to 
a valuable piece of advice from her lips you might be quite 
certain that she had an orange for you in the hand behind her 
back ; and however you might behave, you would get the 
orange. Part of her charm was the atmosphere of gay benefi- 
cence she carried about with her, that made you want to edge 
your chair closer to wherever she was sitting ; and part of it 


142 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


was the remarkable interest she had in everything that con- 
cerned you — a sort of interest that made you feel as if such in- 
formation as you could give about yourself was a direct and 
valuable contribution to the sum of her knowledge of humanity ; 
and part of it was the salutary sincerity of everything she had 
to say in comment, though I ought not to forget her smile, 
which was a great deal of it. I am sure I don’t know why I 
speak of Miss Peter Corke in the past tense, however. She is 
not dead — or even married ; I cannot imagine a greater misfor- 
tune to her large circle of friends in London. 

4 Two lumps, please,’ begged Miss Corke of me in the 
midst of a succession of inquiries about Lady Torquilin’s cough, 
whether it could possibly be gout, or if she had been indulging 
in salmon and cucumber lately, in which case it served her 
perfectly right. 4 What a disappointment you are ! Why don’t 
you ask me if I like it with all* the trimmings ? ’ 

4 The trimmings ? ’ I repeated. 

4 Certainly ! the sugar and milk ! Fancy being obliged to 
explain Americanisms to an American ! ’ said Miss Corke to 
Lady Torquilin. 

4 Is trimmings an Americanism ? ’ I asked. 4 1 never heard 
it before. But I dare say it is an expression peculiar to Boston, 
perhaps.’ 

4 You had better not have any doubt,’ said Miss Corke, 
with mock ferocity, 4 of anything you hear in England.’ 

4 I’ve heard fixings often at home,’ I declared, 4 but never 
trimmings.’ 

4 Oh ! ’ remarked Miss Corke, genially ; 4 then fixings is the 
correct expression.’ 

4 1 don’t know,’ I said, 4 about its being the correct expres- 
sion. Our washerwoman uses it a good deal.’ 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


M3 


‘ Oh ! ’ said Miss Corke, with an indescribable inflection of 
amusement ; and then she looked at me over the top of 
her teacup, as much as to say, ‘you had better not go too 
far!* 

‘Are your father and mother living ?’ she asked ; and just 
then I noticed that it was twenty minutes past four by the 
clock. I answered Miss Corke in the affirmative, and naturally 
I was glad to be able to ; but I have often wondered since why 
that invariable interest in the existence or non-existence of a 
person’s parents should prevail in England as it does. I have 
seldom been approached by any one in a spirit of kindly curiosity 
with a different formula. ‘ Any brothers and sisters ? 5 Miss 
Corke went on. ‘ When did you come ? Where did you go 
first ? How long do you mean to stay ? What have you seen ? 
Did you expect us to be as we are, or do we exceed your expec- 
tations ? Have you ever travelled alone before ? Are you quite 
sure you like the feeling of being absolutely independent ? 
Don’t you love our nice old manners and customs ? and won’t 
you wish when you get back that you could put your President 
on a golden throne, with an ermine robe, and a sceptre in his 
right hand ? ’ 

Miss Corke gave me space between these questions for 
brief answers, but by the time I looked at the clock again, and 
saw that it was twenty-five minutes past four, to the best of my 
recollection, she had asked me twelve. I liked it immensely — it 
made conversation so easy ; but I could not help thinking, in 
connection with it, of the capacity for interrogation, which I had 
always heard credited exclusively to Americans. 

‘ Peter,’ said Lady Torquilin at last, a little tired of it, ‘ ask 
something about me ; I haven’t seen you for weeks.’ 

4 Dear lady,’ said Peter, ‘ of course I will. But this is some- 


144 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


thing new, you see, so one takes an ephemeral — very ephemeral ! 
— interest in it.' 

Lady Torquilin laughed. i Well ! ’ said she , c there’s nothing 
more wonderful than the way it gets about alone.’ 

Then I laughed too. I did not find anything in the least 
objectionable in being called an ‘ it ’ by Miss Corke. 

c So you’ve been in England a whole month ! ’ said she. 
1 And what do you think you have observed about us ? Basing 
your opinion,’ said Miss Corke, with serio-comicality, ( upon the 
fact that we are for your admiration, and not for your criticism, 
how do you like us ? ’ 

I couldn’t help it. ‘ Individually,’ I said, c I like you fairly 
well — as a nation, I can’t ’ 

6 Oh ! ’ cried Miss Corke, in a little funny squeal, rushing at 
Lady Torquilin, ‘ you’ve gone and told her — you wicked 
woman ! ’ — and she shook Lady Torquilin, a thing I didn’t see 
how she dared to do. ‘ I can’t bear it, and I won’t ! Private 
correspondence — I wonder you’re not ashamed ! ’ — and Miss 
Corke sank into a chair, and covered her face with her hands 
and her handkerchief, and squealed again, more comically than 
before. By the time I had been acquainted with Miss Corke 
a fortnight I had learned to look for that squeal, and to love it. 
She probably will not know until she reads this chapter how 
painfully I have tried to copy it, and how vainly, doubtless 
owing to the American nature of my larynx. But Miss Corke 
had a way of railing at you that made you feel rather pleased 
that you had misbehaved. 1 could see that it had that effect 
upon Lady Torquilin, though all she did was to smile broadly, 
and say to Miss Peter, c Hoity-toity ! Have another cup of tea.’ 

In the course of further conversation, Miss Corke said that 
she saw my mind must be improved immediately if she had to 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


145 


do it herself; and where would I like to begin. I said almost 
anywhere, I didn’t think it much mattered ; and Miss Corke said, 
Well, that was candid on my part, and augured favourably, and 



YOU WICKED WOMAN ” ’ 


was I architectu -rurally inclined ? I said I thought I was, 
some ; and out came Miss Peter Corke’s little shriek again. 
‘Tell her,’ she said, prodding Lady Torquilin, ‘ that we say 


r 46 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 

“ rather ” over here in that connection ; I don’t know her well 
enough.’ And I was obliged to beg Lady Torquilin to tell h&r 
that we said 4 some ’ over there in that connection, though not 
in books, or university lectures, or serious-minded magazines. 

4 Oh, come ! ’ said Miss Corke, c do you mean to say you’ve 
got any serious-minded magazines ? ’ 

‘ rn come anywhere you like,’ I responded. 4 Have you got 
any light-minded ones ? ’ 

Whereat Miss Corke turned again to Lady Torquilin, and 
confided to her that I was a flippant young woman to live in the 
same house with, and Lady Torquilin assured her that there 
wasn t really any harm in me — it was only my way. 

‘H’m!’ remarked Miss Peter, perking up her chin in a 
manner that made me long to be on kissing terms with her — c the 
American way ! ’ As I write that it looks disagreeable ; as Peter 
Corke said it, it was the very nectar and ambrosia of prejudiced 
and favourable criticism. And T soon found out that whatever 
she might say, her words never conveyed anything but herself 
never had any significance, I mean, that your knowledge of 
her delightful nature did not endorse. 

‘ I suppose we’d better begin with the churches, don’t you 
think ? said Miss Corke to Lady Torquilin. c Poor dear ! I 
dare say she’s never seen a proper church ! ’ 

Oh, yes ! I said, c you have never been in Chicago, Miss 
Corke, or you wouldnt talk like that. We have several of the 
finest in America in our city ; and we ourselves attend a very 
large one, erected last year, the Congregational — though momma 
has taken up Theosophy considerably lately. It’s built in amphi- 
theatre style, with all the latest improvements — electric light, 
and heated with hot water all through. It will seat five thou- 
sand people on spring-edged cushions, and has a lovely kitchen 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


147 



attached for socials ! ’ ‘ Built in the amphitheatre style ! 

repeated Miss Corke. 4 To seat five thousand people on spring- 

fa 


“‘REMEMBER, YOUNG LADY, THREE-THIRTY — Sharp”' 


148 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


edged cushions — with a kitchen attached ! And now, will you 
tell me immediately what a “ social ” is ? ’ 

‘ There are different kinds, you know,’ 1 replied. ‘ Ice-cream 
socials, and oyster socials, and ordinary tea-meetings ; but they 
nearly always have something to eat in them — a dry social with 
only a collection never amounts to much. And they’re generally 
held in the basement of the church, and the young ladies of the 
congregation wait.’ 

Miss Corke looked at me, amused and aghast. ‘ You see, I 
was quite right,’ she said to Lady Torquilin. ‘ She never has ! 
But I think this really ought to be reported to the Foreign 
Missions Society ! I’ll take you to the Abbey to-morrow,’ she 
went on. ‘ You like “ deaders,” don’t you ? The time between 
might be profitably spent in fasting and meditation ! Good-bye, 
dear love ! ’ — to Lady Torquilin. ‘ No, you will not come down, 
either of you ! Remember, young lady, three-thirty, sharp, at 
the entrance everybody uses, opposite Dizzy’s statue — the same 
which you are never on any account to call Dizzy, but always 
Lord Disraeli, with the respect that becomes a foreigner ! Good- 
bye! ’ 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


149 


XIV 



HAT do you mean ? ’ asked Miss 
Corke, indicating the Parlia- 
ment House clock with a re- 
proachful parasol, as I joined 
her a week from the following 
afternoon outside the south 
cloister of the Abbey. We 
had seen a good deal of her in 
the meantime, but the Abbey 
visit had been postponed. 
Her tone was portentous, and 
I looked at the clock, which 
said ten minutes to four. I 
didn’t quite understand, for I 
thought I was in pretty good 
time. ‘ Didn’t you say I was 
to come about now ? ’ I inquired. Miss Corke made an inar- 
ticulate exclamation of wrath. 

c Half-past three may be “ about now ” in America ! ’ she 
said, ‘ but it isn’t here, as you may see by the clock. Fancy 
my having made an appointment with a young person who had 
an idea of keeping it “ about ” the time I had condescended to 
fix ! ’ — and Miss Corke put down her parasol as we entered the 
cloisters, and attempted to wither me with a glance. If the 


( 50 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


glance had not had the very j oiliest smile of good-fellowship 
inside it I don’t know what I should have done, but as it was 
I didn’t wither ; though I regretted to hear that I had missed 
the Jerusalem Chamber by being late, where King Henry died 
— because he always knew he should expire in a place of that 
name, and so fulfilled prophecy, poor dear, by coming to kneel 
on the cold stone at St. Edward’s shrine, where he would always 
say his prayers, and nowhere else, immediately after a number 
of extraordinary Christmas dinners — and Miss Corke was not in 
the least sorry for me, though it was a thing I ought to see, 
and we positively must come another day to see it. 

We walked up past the little green square that you see in 
wide spaces through the side pillars, where the very oldest old 
monks lie nameless and forgotten, whose lives gathered about 
the foundations of the Abbey — the grey foundations in the grey 
past — and sank silently into its history just as their bodily 
selves have disappeared long ago in the mosses and grasses 
that cover them. 4 No, Miss Mamie Wick, of Chicago, I will 
not hurry ! ’ said Miss Corke, 4 and neither shall you ! It is a 
sacrilege that I will allow no young person in my company to 
commit — to go through these precincts as if there were anything 
in the world as well worth looking at outside of them.’ 

. I said I didn’t want to hurry in the very least. 

4 Are you sure you don’t — inside of you ? ’ she demanded. 
, Certain you have no lurking private ambition to do the Abbey 
in two hours and get it over ? Oh, I know you ! I’ve brought 
lots of you here before.’ 

4 1 know,’ I said, 4 as a nation we do like to get a good deal 
for our time.’ 

4 It’s promising when you acknowledge it’ — Miss Corke 
laughed. 4 All the old abbots used to be buried here up to 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


151 


the time of Henry III. ; that’s probably one of ’em ’ — and Miss 
Corke’s parasol indicated a long, thick, bluish stone thing lying 
on its back, with a round lump at one end and an imitation of 
features cut on the lump. It lay there very solidly along the 
wail, and I tried in vain to get a point of view from which it 
was expressive of anything whatever. 4 One of the early 
abbots ?’ said I, because it seemed necessary to say something. 

4 Probably,’ said Miss Corke. 

4 Which particular abbot should you say ? ’ I asked, deferen- 
tially, for I felt that I was in the presence of something very 
early English indeed, and that it became me to be impressed, 
whether I was or not. 

4 Oh, I don’t know,’ Miss Peter Oorke replied. 4 Postard, 
perhaps, or Crispin, or maybe Vitalis ; nobody knows.’ 

4 1 suppose it would have been easier to tell a while ago,’ I 
said. ‘There is something so worn about his face, I should 
think even the other early abbots would find a difficulty in 
recognising him now. Nothing Druidical, I suppose ? ’ 

4 Certainly not. If you are going to be disrespectful,’ said 
Miss Corke, 4 1 shall take you home at once.’ Whereat I pro- 
tested that I did not dream disrespect — that he looked to me 
quite as much like a Druid as anything else. I even ventured 
to say that, if she had not told me he was an early abbot, I might 
have taken him for something purely and entirely geological. 
The whole of this discussion took place at what stood for the 
early abbot’s feet, and occupied some little time ; so that, finally, 
Miss Corke was obliged to tell me that, if there was one thing 
she couldn’t bear, it was dawdling, and would I be pleased to 
look at the monumental tablet to Mr. Thomas Thynne, of which 
she would relate to me the history. So we paused in front of 
it, while Miss Corke told me how the gentleman in the bas- 
il 


152 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


relief chariot was Mr. Thomas Thynne, and the gentleman on 
horseback, shooting at him with a blunderbuss, was Konigsmark, 
accompanied by his brother ; and Konigsmark was in the act of 
killing Mr, Thomas Thynne, with the horses getting unmanage- 
able, and the two powdered footmen behind in a state of great 
agitation, because both Mr. Thomas Thynne and Konigsmark 
were attached to the same lady — a young widow lady with a 
great deal of money — and she liked Mr. Thomas Thynne best, 
which was more than Mr. Konigsmark could bear. So Mr. 
Konigsmark first swore properly that he would do it, and then 
did it — all in Pall Mall, when Mr. Thomas was in the very act 
of driving home from paying a visit to the widow. It was a 
most affecting story, as Peter Corke told it, especially in the 
presence of the memorial with a white marble Cupid pointing to 
it, erected by Mr. Thynne’s bereaved relatives ; and I was glad 
to hear that the widow had nothing to do with Mr. Konigsmark 
afterwards, in spite of the simplicity and skill of his tactics with 
regard to his rival. I thought the history of the event quite in- 
teresting enough in itself, but Miss Corke insisted that the point 
about it really worthy of attention was the fact that the younger 
Mr. Konigsmark was the gentleman who afterwards went back 
to Hanover, and there flirted so disgracefully with Sophia 
Dorothea of Zell that King George said he wouldn’t have it, 
and shut her up in Ahlden Tower for thirty-two years. Miss 
Corke explained it all in a delightful kindergarten way, 
mentioning volumes for my reference if I wanted to know more 
about the incident. 4 Although this,’ she said, ‘ is the sort of 
thing you ought to have been improving your mind with ever 
since you learned to read. I don’t know what you mean by it, 
coming over here with a vast unbroken field of ignorance about 
our celebrities. Do you think time began in 1776 ?’ At which 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


*53 


I retaliated, and said that far from being an improving incident, 
I wasn’t sure that it was altogether respectable, and I didn’t 
know of a single church in Chicago that would admit a bas- 
relief of it, with or without a mourning Cupid. In return to 
which Miss Corke could find nothing better to say than 4 Lawks !’ 

‘ Don’t tell me you’ve read the “ Spectator ! ” ’ she remarked 
a little farther on, ‘ because I know you haven’t — you’ve read 
nothing but W. D. Howells and the “ New York World!” 
Oh, you have ? Several essays ! When, pray ? At school — 
I thought so! When you couldn’t help it! Well, I know 
you’ve forgotten Sir Roger de Coverley, in the Abbey, stopping 
Addison here, to tell him that man thrashed his grandfather ! 
His own grandfather, you know, not Addison’s ! ’ And we 
contemplated the studious effigy of Dr. Busby until I told 
Miss Corke that I wanted to be taken to the Poets’ Corner. 
‘ Of course you do,’ said she ; ‘ there are rows of Americans there 
now, sitting looking mournful and thinking up quotations. If 
I wanted to find an American in London, I should take up my 
position in the Poets’ Corner until he arrived. You needn’t 
apologise — it’s nothing to your discredit,’ remarked Miss Corke, 
as we turned in among your wonderful crumbling old names, 
past the bust of George Grote, historian of Greece. ‘ Of course, 
you have heard of his lady-wife,’ she said, nodding at Mr. Grote. 
I ventured the statement that she was a very remarkable person. 
‘Well, she was!’ returned Miss Corke, ‘though that’s a shot 
in the dark, and you might as well confess it. One of the most 
remarkable women of her time. All the biographers of the day 
wrote about her — as you ought to know, intimately . I have 
the honour of the acquaintance of a niece of hers, who told me 
the other day that she wasn’t particularly fond of her. Great 
independence of character ! ’ 


i 5 4 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 

‘Where is Chaucer?’ I asked, wishing to begin at the 
beginning. 

‘ Just like every one of you that I’ve ever brought here ! ’ 
Miss Corke exclaimed, leading the way to the curious old 
rectangular grey tomb in the wall. ‘ The very best — the very 
0 ^ es t — immediately ! Such impatience I never saw ! There 
now— make out that early English lettering, if you can, and be 
properly sorry that you’ve renounced your claim to be proud 
of it ! 9 

‘ I can’t make it out, so I’ll think about being sorry later,’ I 
said. ‘ It is certainly very remarkable ; he might almost have 
written it himself. Now, where is Shakespeare? 

< Oh, certainly ! ’ exclaimed Miss Corke. ‘ This way. And 
after that you’ll declare you’ve seen them all. But you might 
just take time to understand that you’re walking over “ 0 rare 
Ben Jonson ! ” who is standing up in his old bones down there 
as straight as you or I. Insisted— as you probably are not 
aware — on being buried that way, so as to be ready when 
Gabriel blows his trumpet in the morning. I won’t say that 
he hasn’t got his coat and hat on. Yes, that’s Samuel — 
I’m glad you didn’t say Ben was the lexicographer. Milton 
certainly — it’s kind of you to notice him. Blind, you re- 
member. The author of several works of some reputation — in 
England.’ 

‘ J knew he was blind,’ I said, ‘ and used to dictate to his 
daughters. We have a picture of it at home.’ I made this 
remark very innocently, and Miss Corke looked at me with a 
comical smile. 1 Bless it and save it ! ’ she said, and then, with 
an attempt at a reproach, ‘ What a humbug it is ! ’ 

We looked at Shakespeare, supreme among them, predicting 
solemn dissolution out of ‘ The Tempest,’ and turned from him 



« WE LOOKED AT SHAKESPEARE, 
SUPREME AMONG THEM ’ 


AN 


AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 



156 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


bo Gay, whose final reckless word I read with as much astonish- 
ment as if I had never heard of it before. 

Life’s a jest, and all things show it ; 

I thought so once, &nd now I know it, 


has no significance at all read in an American school-book two 
thousand miles, and a hundred and fifty years from the writer 



of it, compared with the grim 
shock it gives you when you 
see it actually cut deep in the 
stone, to be a memorial always 
of a dead man somewhere not 
far away. 

‘That you should have 
heard of Nicholas Rowe,’ said 
Miss Corke, 4 is altogether too 
much to expect. Dear me ! 
it would be considerably easier 
to improve your mind if it had 
ever been tried before. But 
he was poet-laureate for George 
the First — you understand the 
term ? ’ 

4 1 think so,’ I said. 4 They 
contract to supply the Royal 

‘ { show S it A * JEST ’ AND THINGS Family with poetry, by the 
i thought so once, and now i year, at a salary. We have 

nothing of the kind m America. 
You see our Presidents differ so. They might not all like 
poetry. And in that case it would be wasted, for there isn t a 
magazine in the country that would take it second-hand.’ 

4 Besides having no poets who could do it properly, poor 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


*57 


things ! 9 said Miss Corke — to which I acceded without difficulty. 

4 Well, Mr. Rowe was a poet-laureate, though that has nothing 
whatever to do with it. But he had a great friend in Mr. Pope 
— Pope, you know him — by reputation — and when he and his 
daughter died, Mr. Pope and Mrs. Rowe felt so bad about it 
that he wrote those mournful lines, and she had ’em put up. 
Now listen ! — 

To those so mourned in death, so lov’d in life. 

The childless parent and the widowed wife — 

meaning the same lady ; it was only a neat way they had of 
doubling up a sentiment in those days ! — 

With tears inscribes this monumental stone, 

That holds their ashes and expects her own I 

and everybody, including Mr. Pope, thought it perfectly sweet 
at the time. Then what does this degenerate widow do, after 
giving Mr. Pope every reason to believe that she would fulfil 
his poetry ? 5 

4 She marries again,’ I said. 

4 Quite right ; she marries again. But you needn’t try to 
impose upon me, miss ! To come to that conclusion you didn’t 
require any previous information whatever ! She marries again, 
and you can’t think how it vexed Mr. Pope.’ 

4 1 know,’ I said, 4 he declared that was the last of his lend- 
ing the use of his genius to widows ’ — for I had to assume some 
knowledge of the subject. 

Miss Corke looked at me. 4 You idjit ! 9 she said. 4 He did 
nothing of the sort.’ 

4 Michael Drayton ! ’ I read amongst other names which 
surprised me by their unfamiliarity ; for in America, whatever 
Peter Corke may say, if we have a strong point, it is names — 


i 5 8 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


c who was Michael Drayton ? and why was he entitled to a 
bust ? ’ 

‘ He wrote the “ Polyolbion,” * said Miss Corke, as if that 
were all there was to say about it. 

c Do you know/ I said — ‘ I am ashamed to confess it, 
but even of so well-known and interesting a work of genius 
as the “ Polyolbion ” I have committed very few pages to 
memory ! 9 

c Oh ! ’ returned Miss Peter, 6 you’re getting unbearable ! 
There’s a lovely epitaph for you, of Edmund Spenser’s, “ whose 
divine spirrit needs noe othir witnesse than the workes which 
he left behind him.” You will kindly make no ribald remarks 
about the spelling, as I perceive you are thinking of doing. 
Try and remember that we taught you to spell over there. 
And when Edmund Spenser was buried, dear damsel, there 
came a company of poets to the funeral — Shakespeare, doubt- 
less, among them — and cast into his grave all manner of 
elegies.’ 

‘ Of their own composition ? ’ I inquired. 

‘ Stupid ! — certainly ! And the pens that wrote them ! * 

I said I thought it a most beautiful and poetic thing to have 
done, if they kept no copies of the poems, and asked Miss 
Corke if she believed anything of the kind would be possible 
now. 

c Bless you ! ’ she replied. c In the first place, there aren’t 
the poets ; in the second place, there isn’t the hero-worship ; 
in the third place, the conditions of the poetry-market are dif- 
ferent nowadays — it’s more expensive than it used to be ; the 
poets would prefer to send wreaths from the florist’s — you can 
get quite a nice one for twelve-and-six ; ’ and Peter Corke made 
a little grimace expressive of disgust with the times. ‘ We 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


159 


used to have all poets and no public, now we have all public 
and no poets ! 5 she declared, c now that he is gone — and 
Tennyson can’t live for ever.’ Miss Corke pointed with her 
parasol to a name in the stone close to my right foot. I had 
been looking about me, and above me, and everywhere but 
there. As I read it I took my foot away quickly, and went 
two or three paces off. It was so unlooked-for, that name, so 
new to its association with death, that I stood aside, held by a 
sudden sense of intrusion. He had always been so high and so 
far off in the privacy of his genius, so revered in his solitudes, 
so unapproachable, that it took one’s breath away for the 
moment to have walked unthinkingly over the grave of Robert 
Browning. It seemed like taking an advantage one would 
rather not have taken — even to stand aside and read the plain, 
strong name in the floor, and know that he, having done with 
life, had been brought there, and left where there could be no 
longer about him any wonderings or any surmises. Miss Corke 
told me that she knew him, ‘ as one can say one knows such a 
man,’ and how kindly his interest was in all that the ordinary 
people of his acquaintance like herself were thinking and doing; 
but the little, homely stories she related to me from her personal 
knowledge of him seemed curiously without relevance then. 
Nothing mattered, except that he who had epitomised greatness 
in his art for the century lay there beneath his name in the 
place of greatness. And then, immediately, from this grave of 
yesterday, there came to me light and definition for all the 
graves of the day before. It stole among the quaint lettering 
of the inscriptions, and into the dusty corners of the bas-reliefs, 
and behind all the sculptured scrolls and laurels, and showed 
me what I had somehow missed seeing sooner — all that shrined 
honour means in England; and just in that one little corner 


j6o AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 

how great her possessions are! Miss Corke said something 
about the royal tombs and the coronation chair, and the wax 
effigies in the chamber above the Islip Chapel, and getting on ; 
but, c if you don’t mind,’ I said, c I should like to sit down here 
for a while with the other Americans and think.’ 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


j6i 



XV 

'T is said that there are four hundred 
people in New York who are exclusive, 
and there are a few more on 
Beacon Hill in Boston, and in 
Philadelphia. But most Ameri- 
cans are opposed to exclusiveness. 
I know that nothing of the sort 
flourishes in Chicago. Generally 
and individually, Americans be- 
lieve that every man is as good as 
his neighbour ; and we take pains to proclaim our belief when- 
ever the subject of class distinction is under discussion. 
Poppa’s views, however — representing those of the majority in 
an individual, as we hope they soon may do in a senator — are 
strongly against any theory of exclusiveness whatever. And I 
will say for poppa, that his principles are carried out in his 
practice ; for, to my knowledge, neither his retirement from busi- 
ness and purchase of a suburban lakeside residence, nor even 
his nomination for the Senate, has made the slightest difference 
in his treatment of any human being. And yet Americans 
coming over here with all their social theories in their trunks, 
so to speak, very carefully packed to be ready at a moment’s 
notice, very seldom seem to find a use for them in England. I 
was brought up, you might say, on poppa’s, and momma agreed 


[62 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


with him on most points, with the one qualification that, if you 
couldn’t have nice society, it was much better to go without 
any — i Scarce company, welcome trumpery ! ’ momma always 
declared would never be her motto. Yet since I have been in 
England I have hardly had occasion to refer to them at all. I 
listened to an American author about it a while ago, before I 
had any intention of writing my own English experiences, and 
he said the reason Americans liked the exclusiveness over here 
was because its operation gave them such perfect types to study, 
each of* its own little circle ; while at home we are a great inde- 
terminate, shifting mass, and a person who wanted to know us as 
a nation must know us very largely as individuals first. I thought 
that might be a very good reason for an author, especially for 
an author who liked an occasional cup of tea with a duchess ; 
but I was not sure that it could be claimed by a person like 
myself, only over on a visit, and not for any special purpose of 
biological research. So I went on liking the way you shut 
some people out and let other people in, without inquiring 
further as to why I did — it did not seem profitable, especially 
when I reflected that my point of view was generally from the 
inside. My democratic principles are just the same as ever, 
though — a person needn’t always approve what she likes. I 
shall take them back quite unimpaired to a country where they 
are indispensable — where you really want them, if you are going 
to be comfortable, every day of your life. 

Nevertheless, I know it was the * private * part of the 
1 Private View ’ that made me so anxious to go to the Academy 
on the first day of May this year. The pictures would be there 
the second day, and the day following, and days indefinitely 
after that, and for a quarter of a dollar I could choose my own 
time and circumstances of going to see them. I might, weather 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


163 

permitting, have taken my 4 view ’ of the Academy in the pub- 
licity of five or six other people who, like me, would have paid 
a shilling a-piece to get in ; but I found myself preferring the 
privacy of the five or six hundred who did not pay — preferring 
it immensely. Besides, I had heard all my life of the 4 Private 
View/ Every year there are special cablegrams about it in our 
newspapers — who were there, and what they wore — generally 
to the extent of at least a column and a half. Our special cor- 
respondents in London glory in it, and rival each other, adjec- 
tivally, in describing it. Lady Torquilin had been talking about 
it a good deal, too. She said it was 4 a thing to see,’ and she 
meant to try to get me an invitation. Lady Torquilin went 
every year. 

But when the thirtieth day of April came, Lady Torquilin 
told me in the evening, after dinner, that she hadn’t been able to 
manage it, and showed me the card upon which the 4 President 
and Members of the Royal Academy of Arts 44 requested ” the 
pleasure of the company of Lady Torquilin,’ only, 4 Not trans- 
ferable.’ 

4 It’s very tiresome of them,’ said Lady Torquilin, 4 to put 
that on. It means that you positively must not give it to any- 
body. Otherwise I would have handed it over to you, child, 
with the greatest pleasure — I don’t care a pin’s point about 
going, and you could have gone with the Pastelle-Browns. Bui 
there it is ! ’ 

Of course, nothing would have induced me to take Lady 
Torquilin’s invitation, and deprive her of the pleasure of going ; 
but I pinned her veil at the back, and saw her off down the 
elevator, next day at two, with an intensity of regret which 
cannot come often in the course of an ordinary lifetime. I was 
describing my feelings in a letter, addressed, I think, to Mr. 





4 OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENTS GLORY IN IT ’ 




AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


165 


Winterhazel, when, about an hour later, Lady Torquilin appeared 
again, flushed with exertion, and sank panting into a chair. 
4 Get ready, child ! ’ said she. 4 I’d wear your tailor-made ; those 
stairs will kill me, but there was— no time — to waste on the 
lift. I can get you in — hurry up your cakes ! 9 

4 But am I invited ? 9 I asked. 

4 Certainly you are — by a Royal Academician in person — so 

fly r 

I flew, and in twenty minutes Lady Torquilin and I were 
engaged in our usual altercation with a cabman on the way to 
Burlington House. When he had got his cab and animal well 
into a block in Bond Street, and nothing of any sort could 
possibly happen without the sanction of a Jove-like policeman at 
the crossing, Lady Torquilin took the opportunity of telling me 
how it was that she was able to come for me. 4 You see,’ she 
said, 4 the very first person I had the good luck to meet when I 
went in was Sir Bellamy Bellamy — you remember Sir Bellamy 
Bellamy at the Mintherringtons ? I tell you frankly that I 
wouldn’t have mentioned it, my dear, unless he had first, though 
I knew perfectly well that what Sir Bellamy Bellamy can’t do 
in that Academy simply can’t be done, for you know I’m the 
last one to push ; but he did. 44 Where is your young friend ? ’ 
said he. Then I took my chance, and told him how I’d asked 
that old screw of a Monkhouse Diddlington for two, and only got 
one, and how I couldn’t possibly give it to you because it was 
printed 44 Not transferable,” and how disappointed you were ; 
and he was nice about it. 44 My dear Lady Torquilin,” he said, 
44 we were children together, and you never came to me. I 
should have been delighted ! 99 

4 44 Well,” I said, 44 Sir Bellamy, can’t we do anything about 
it now ?" 44 It’s rather late in the day,” said he. 44 It is late in 


(66 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


the day,” said I. 44 Oh, I say ! ” said he, 44 she must come if she 
wants to — any friend of yours, Lady Torquilin ” — such a hum- 
bug as the man is ! 44 It’s a bit irregular,” he went on, 44 and 

we won’t say anything about it, but if you like to go and get 
her, and see that she carries this in with her ” (here Lady Tor* 
quilin produced a fat, pale-blue catalogue book), 44 there won’t 
be any difficulty. I fancy.” So there you are, Miss Wick, pro- 
vided with Sir Bellamy Bellamy’s own catalogue to admit you 
— if that’s not a compliment, I don’t know what is ! ’ 

4 1 don’t feel as if I had been properly invited,’ I said ; 4 I’m 
afraid I oughtn’t to go, Lady Torquilin.’ 

4 Rubbish, child ! ’ said she. 4 Do you want them to send a 
deputation for you ? ’ And after that, what could I say ? 

4 Hold up your head, and look perfectly indifferent,’ advised 
Lady Torquilin, as our hansom deposited us in the courtyard 
before the outer steps. 4 Don’t grasp that catalogue as if it 
were a banner ; carry it carelessly. Now follow me.’ And 
Lady Torquilin, with great dignity, a sense of rectitude, and a 
catalogue to which she was properly entitled, followed by me 
with vague apprehensions, a bad conscience, and a catalogue 
that didn’t belong to me, walked into the Private View. Nobody 
said anything, though I fancied one of the two old gentlemen 
in crimson and black by the door looked knowingly at the other 
when I passed, as much as to say : 4 About that tailor-made 
there is something fraudulent.’ I say I 4 fancied,’ though ti- 
the time I was certain they did, because my imagination, of 
course, may have had something to do with it. I know I was very 
glad of the shelter of Lady Torquilin’s unimpeachable respecta- 
bility in front. 4 There now,’ she said, when we were well into 
the crowd, 4 we’re both here, and it’s much nicer, isn’t it, dear ? 
than for you to come with strangers, even if I could have made 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


167 


up ray mind that it was right for you to be admitted on a ticket 
plainly marked “ not transferable ” — which I really don’t think, 
dear, I should have been able to do/ 

We moved aimlessly with the throng, and were immediately 
overtaken and possessed by the spirit that seemed to be abroad 
— a spirit of wonder and criticism and speculation and searching, 
that first embraced our nearest neighbours, went off at random 
to a curiously-dressed person in perspective, focussed upon a 
celebrity in a corner, and spent itself in the shifting crowd. 
Lady Torquilin bade me consider whether in all my life before 
I had ever seen such remarkable gowns, and I was obliged to con- 
fess that I had not. Some of them were beautiful, and some were 
not ; many were what you so very properly and aptly call c smart,’ 
and a few were artistic. All of them, pretty and ugly, I might 
have encountered at home, but there was one species of c frock ’ 
which no American, I think, could achieve with impunity. It 
was a protest against conventionalism, very much gathered, and 
usually presented itself in colours unattainable out of a London 
fog. It almost always went with a rather discouraged-looking 
lady having a bad complexion, and hair badly done up ; and, 
invariably, it dragged a little on one side. I don’t know exactly 
why that kind of dress would be an impossible adjunct to the 
person of an American woman, but I am disposed to believe 
there is a climatic reason. We have so much sun and oxygen 
in the United States that I think they get into our ideas of 
clothes ; and a person upholstered in the way I have mentioned 
would very likely find herself specially and disrespectfully 
described in the newspapers. But I do not wish to be thought 
impertinent about the development of this particular English 
dress ideal. It has undoubted points of interest. I had a better 
opportunity of observing it at the Academy Soiree in June, when 
12 


1 68 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


it shed abroad the suggestion of a Tennysonian idyll left out all 
night. 

Lady Torquilin had just pointed out to me two duchesses: 
one large and round, who was certainly a duchess by mistake, 
and the other tall and beautiful, with just such a curved upper 
lip as a duchess ought to have, and a coronet easily imaginable 
under her bonnet, and we were talking about them, when I saw 
somebody I knew. He was a middle-aged gentleman, and I had 
a very interesting association with his face, though I couldn’t 
for the moment remember his name or where I had met him. 
I told Lady Torquilin about it, with the excited eagerness that 
a person always feels at the sight of a familiar face in a foreign 
land. c Some friend of poppas, I am certain/ I said ; and 
although I had only had a glimpse of him, and immediately 
lost him in the crowd, we decided to walk on in that direction 
in the hope of seeing him again. He reappeared at a distance, 
and again we lost him ; but we kept on, and while Lady Torquilin 
stopped to chat with her numerous acquaintances I looked out 
carefully for my father’s friend. I knew that as soon as he saw 
me he would probably come up at once and shake hands, and 
then the name would come back to me ; and I yearned to ask a 
thousand things of Chicago. We came face to face with him 
unexpectedly, and as his eye caught mine carelessly it dawned 
upon me that the last time I had seen him it was not in a long 
grey overcoat and a silk hat — there was something incongruous 
in that. Also, I remembered an insolent grizzled chin and 
great duplicity. 4 Oh ! ’ I said to Lady Torquilin, ‘ I don’t know 
him at all ! It’s ’ 

6 It’s Mr. Bancroft ! ’ said Lady Torquilin. 

‘ Who is Mr. Bancroft ? ’ said I. c It’s the Abbe Latour ! * 

I had enjoyed 4 The Dead Heart 9 so much a fortnight before, 
but I was glad I did not bow before I recognised that it was a 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


169 

gentleman with whom I had the honour of possessing only ten- 
and-sixpence worth of acquaintance. 

I saw the various scandals of the year as well. Lady 
Torquilin mentioned them, just to call my attention to their 
dresses, generally giving her opinion that there had been 
altogether too much said about the matter. Lady Torquilin 
did not know many of the literary people who were present, 
but she indicated Mr. Anstey and Mr. William Black, whose 
works are extremely popular with us, and it was a particular 
pleasure to be able to describe them when I wrote home next 
day. I wanted to see Mr. Oscar Wilde very especially, but 
somebody told Lady Torquilin he was at the Grosvenor — 4 and 
small loss, I consider ! ’ said she ; 4 he’s just like any other man, 
dear child, only with more nonsense in his head than most of 
them ! ’ But it was not in the nature of things or people 
that Lady Torquilin should like Mr. Oscar Wilde. Before we 
went she showed me two or three lady-journalists busy taking 
notes. 

4 There’s that nice Miss Jay Penne,’ said Lady Torquilin. 
4 1 know all the Jay Pennes — such a literary family ! And Miss 
Jay Penne always wants to know what I’ve got on. I think I 
must just speak to her, dear, if you don’t mind waiting one 
moment ; and then we’ll go. 

4 She asked about you, too, dear,’ said my friend when she 
rejoined me, with a little nudge of congratulation. 

I should, perhaps, have stated before that there were a number 
of artists walking around trying to keep away from their own 
pictures ; but this I gathered of myself, for, with the exception 
of Sir Bellamy Bellamy, who had gone away, Lady Torquilin 
did not know any of them. I noticed, too, that the walls of the 
rooms we were in were covered with pictures, but they did not 
seem to have anything to do with the Private View. 


170 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


XVI 



ADY POWDERBY’S ball 
was the first I attended in 
London, and therefore, I 
suppose, made the strongest 
impression upon me. It 
was quite different from a Chicago ball, though the differences 
were so intangible — not consisting at all in the supper, or the 
music, or the dresses, or the decorations — that I am by no 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


I7i 

means sure that I can explain them ; so I beg that you will not 
be disappointed if you fail to learn from my idea of a London 
ball what a Chicago ball is like. It is very easy for you to find 
out personally, if you happen to be in Chicago. 

We went in a four-wheeler at about eleven o’clock, and as 
the driver drew up before the strip of carpet that led to the 
door, the first thing that struck me was the little crowd of people 
standing waiting on either side to watch the guests go in. I 
never saw that in Chicago — that patience and self-abnegation. 
I don’t think the freeborn American citizen would find it con- 
sistent with his dignity to hang about the portals of a party to 
which he had not been invited. He would take pains, on the 
contrary, to shun all appearance of wanting to go. 

Inside I expected to find a crowd — I think balls are gene- 
rally crowded wherever they are given ; but I also expected to 
be able to get through it, in which for quite twenty minutes I 
was disappointed. Both Lady Torquilin and I made up our 
minds, at one time, to spend the rest of the evening in our 
wraps ; but just as we had abandoned ourselves to this there 
came a breaking and a parting among the people, and a surge 
in one direction, which Lady Torquilin explained, as we took 
advantage of it, by the statement that the supper-room had 
been opened. 

In the cloak-room several ladies were already preparing for 
departure. 4 Do you suppose they are ill ? ’ I asked Lady 
Torquilin, as we stood together, while two of the maids repaired 
our damages as far as they were able. 4 Why do they go home 
so early ? ’ 

4 Home, child ! ’ said Lady Torquilin, with a withering 
emphasis. 4 They’re going on ; I daresay they’ve got a couple 
more dances a-piece to put in an appearance at to-night.’ Lady 


172 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


Torquilin did not approve of what she called 4 excessive riot, 
and never accepted more than one invitation an evening ; so 1 
was unfamiliar with London ways in this respect. Presently 
I had another object-lesson in the person of a lady who came in 
and gave her cloak to the attendant, saying, 4 Put it where you 
can get it easily, please. I’ll want it again in a quarter of an 
hour.’ I thought as I looked at her that social pleasures must 
be to such an one simply a series of topographical experiments. 
I also thought I should have something to say when next I 
heard of the hurry and high pressure in which Americans 
lived. 

4 It’s of no use,’ said Lady Torquilin, looking at the stairs ; 
4 we can never get up ; we might as well go with the rest 
and 9 

4 Have some supper,’ added somebody close behind us ; and 
Lady Torquilin said : 4 Oh, Charlie Mafferton ! ’ though why she 
should have been surprised was more than I could imagine, for 
Charlie Maffertou was nearly always at hand. Wherever we 
went to — at homes, or concerts, or the theatre, or sight-seeing, 
in any direction, Mr. Mafferton turned up, either expectedly or 
unexpectedly, with great precision, and his manner toward Lady 
Torquilin was always as devoted as it could be. I have not 
mentioned him often before in describing my experiences, and 
shall probably not mention him often again, because after a 
time I began to take him for granted as a detail of almost every- 
thing we did. Lady Torquilin seemed to like it, so I, of course, 
had no right to object; and, indeed, I did not particularly mind, 
because Mr. Mafferton was always nice in his manner to me, and 
often very interesting in his remarks. But if Lady Torquilin 
had not told me that she had known him in short clothes, and 
if I had not been perfectly certain she was far too sensible to 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


173 


give her affections to a person so much younger than herself, I 
don’t know what I would have thought. 

So we went with the rest and had some supper, and, in the 
anxious interval during which Lady Torquilin and I occupied a 
position in the doorway, and Mr. Mafferton reconnoitred for one 
of the little round tables, I discovered what had been puzzling 
me so about the house ever since I had come into it. Except 
for the people, and the flower decorations, and a few chairs, it 
was absolutely empty. The people furnished it, so to speak, 
moving about in the brilliancy of their dresses and diamonds, 
and the variety of their manners, to such an extent that I had 
not been able to particularise before what I felt was lacking to 
this ball. It was a very curious lack — all the crewel-work, and 
Japanese bric-a-brac, and flower lamp-shades, that go to make up 
a home ; and the substitute for it in the gay lights and flowers, 
and exuberant supper-table, and dense mass of people, gave me 
the feeling of having been permitted to avail myself of a brilliant 
opportunity, rather than of being invited to share the hospitality 
of Lady Torquilin’s friends. 

4 Has Lady Powderby just moved in ? 9 I asked, as we sat 
down around two bottles of champagne, a lot of things glacees , 
a triple arrangement of knives and forks, and a pyramid of 
apoplectic strawberries. 

‘ Lady Powderby doesn’t live here,’ Lady Torquilin said. 
‘No, Charlie, thank you — sweets for you young people if you 
like — savouries for me ! ’ and my friend explained to me that 
Lady Powderby was 6 at home ’ at this particular address only 
for this particular evening, and had probably paid a good many 
guineas house-rent for the night ; after which I tried in vain to 
feel a sense of personal gratitude for my strawberries, which I 
was not privileged even to eat with my hostess’s fork — though^ 


74 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


of course, 1 knew that this was mere sentiment, and that prac- 
tically I was as much indebted to Lady Powderby for her 
strawberries as if she had grown them herself. And, on general 
grounds, I was really glad to have had the chance of attending 
this kind of ball, which had not come within my experience 
before. I don’t think it would occur to anybody in Chicago to 
hire an empty house to give an entertainment in ; and though, 
now that I think of it, Palmer’s Hotel is certainly often utilised 
for this purpose, it is generally the charity or benevolent society 
hop that is given there. 

During supper, while Lady Torquilin was telling Mr. Maffer- 
ton how much we had enjoyed the ‘ Opening,’ and how kind his 
cousin had been, I looked round. I don’t know whether it is 
proper to look round at a ball in England — it’s a thing I never 
should have thought of doing in Chicago, where I knew 
exactly what I should see if I did look round — but the im- 
personal nature of Lady Powderby’s ball gave me a sense of 
irresponsibility to anybody, and the usual code of manners 
seemed a vague law, without any particular applicability to 
present circumstances. And I was struck, much struck, with 
the thorough business-like concentration and singleness of 
purpose that I saw about me. The people did not seem much 
acquainted, except by twos and threes, and ignored each other, 
for the most part, in a calm, high-level way, that was really 
educating to see. But they were not without a common senti- 
ment and a common aim — they had all come to a ball, where it 
devolved upon them to dance and sup, and dance again — to dance 
and sup as often as possible, and to the greatest possible advan- 
tage. This involved a measuring-up of what there was, which 
seemed to be a popular train of thought. There was no undue 
levity. If a joke had been made in that supper-room it would 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


175 


have exploded more violently than the champagne-bottles. 
Indeed, there was as great and serious decorum as was possible 
among so many human beings who all required to be fed at once, 
with several changes of plates. I observed a great deal of be- 
haviour and a great similarity of it — the gentlemen were alike, 
and the ladies were alike, except that some of the ladies were a 
little like the gentlemen, and some of the gentlemen were a 
little like the ladies. This homogeneity was remarkable to me, 
considering how few of them seemed to have even a bowing 
acquaintance with each other. But the impressive thing was 
the solid unity of interest and action as regarded the supper. 

We struggled upstairs, and on the first landing met a lady- 
relation of our hostess, with whom Lady Torquilin shook hands. 

4 You’ll never find her , 5 said this relation, referring to Lady 
Powderby. ‘The Dyngeleys, and the Porterhouses, and the 
Bangley Coffins have all come and gone without seeing her . 5 
But I may just state here that we did find her, towards morning, 
in time to say good-bye. 

When I say that the floor of Lady Powderby’s (temporary) 
ball-room was full, I do not adequately express the fact. It was 
replete — it ran over, if that is not too impulsive an expression for 
the movement of the ladies and gentlemen who were twirling 
round each other upon the floor, all in one direction, to the 
music. With the exception of two or three couples, whose 
excited gyration seemed quite tipsy by contrast, the ball 
upfitairs was going on with the same profound and determined 
action as the ball downstairs. I noticed the same universal 
look of concentration, the same firm or nervous intention of 
properly discharging the responsibilities of the evening and 
the numbers of the programme, on the face of the sweet, fresh 
debutante , steadily getting pinker ; of the middle-aged, 


176 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 

military man, dancing like a disjointed foot-rule ; of the stout 
old lady in crimson silk, very low in the neck, who sat against 



* DANCING LIKE A DISJOINTED FOOT-RULE * 



AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


177 


the wall. The popular theory seemed to be that the dancing 
was something to be Done — the consideration of enjoyment 
brought it to a lower plane. And it was an improving sight, 
though sad. 

Mr. Mafferton asked me for Numbers seven, and nine, and 
eleven — all waltzes. I knew he would be obliged to, out of 
politeness to Lady Torquilin, who had got past dancing herself ; 
but I had been dreading it all the time I spent in watching 
the other men go round, while Mr. Mafferton sought for a 
chair for her. So I suggested that we should try Number 
seven, and see how we got on, ignoring the others, and saying 
something weakly about my not having danced for so long, 
and feeling absolutely certain that I should not be able to 
acquit myself with the erectness — to speak of nothing else — 
that seemed to be imperative at Lady Powderby’s ball. c Oh ! 
I am sure we shall do very well,’ said Mr. Mafferton. And we 
started. 

I admire English dancing. I am accustomed to it now, and 
can look at a roomful of people engaged in it without a sym- 
pathetic attack of vertigo or a crick in my neck. I think it is, 
perhaps, as good an exposition of the unbending, unswerving 
quality in your national character as could be found anywhere, 
in a small way ; but I do not think an American ought to tamper 
with it without preliminary training. 

Mr. Mafferton and I started — he with confidence, I with 
indecision. You can make the same step with a pair 
of scissors as Mr. Mafferton made ; I did it afterwards, 
when I explained to Lady Torquilin how impossible it 
was that I should have danced nine and eleven with him. 
Compared with it I felt that mine was a caper, and the height 
of impropriety. You will argue from this that they do not 


M M 


178 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 



go together well ; 
and that is quite 
correct. We in- 
serted ourselves 
into the moving 
mass, and I went 
hopelessly round 
the Maypole that 
Mr. Mafferton 
seemed to have 
turned into, 
several times. 
Then the room 
began to reel. 
‘ Don’t you think 
we had better 
reverse ? ’ I 
asked ; ‘ I am 

getting dizzy, 
I’m afraid.’ Mr. 
Mafferton stop- 
ped instantly, 
and the room 
came right again. 

4 Reverse ?’ he 
said ; I don’t 
think I ever heard 
of it. I thought 
we were getting 
on capitally ! ’ 
And when I ex- 


RE VERSE ? ” HE SAID ; “ I DOM T THINK I EVER HEARD OF IT ’ 


AN* AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


179 


plained to him that reversing meant turning round, and going 
the other way, he declared that it was quite impracticable — 
that we would knock everybody else over, and that he had 
never seen it done. After the last argument I did not press 
the matter. It took very little acquaintance with Mr. Mafferton 
to know that, if he had never seen it done, he never would 
doit. ‘We will try going back a bit,’ he proposed instead; 
with the result that after the next four or five turns he 
began to stalk away from me, going I knew not whither. 
About four minutes later we went back, at my urgent request, 
to Lady Torquilin, and Mr. Mafferton told her that we had 
1 hit it off admirably.’ I think he must have thought we did, 
because he said something about not having been quite able 
to catch my step at first, in a way that showed entire satisfaction 
with his later performance ; which was quite natural, for Mr. 
Mafferton was the kind of person who, so long as he was doing 
his best himself, would hardly be aware whether anybody else 
was or not. 

I made several other attempts with friends of Lady Torquilin 
and Mr. Mafferton, and a few of them were partially successful, 
though I generally found it advisable to sit out the latter parts 
of them. This, when room could be found, was very amusing ; 
and I noticed that it was done all the way up two flights of 
stairs, and in every other conceivable place that offered two seats 
contiguously. I was interested to a degree in one person with 
whom I sat out two or three dances running. He was quite a 
young man, not over twenty-four or five, I should think — a 
nephew of Lady Torquilin, and an officer in the Army, living at 
Aldershot, very handsome, and wore an eyeglass, which was, 
however, quite a common distinction. I must tell you more 
about him again in connection with the day Lady Torquilin and 


i8o AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 

I spent at Aldershot at his invitation, because he really deserves 
a chapter to himself. But it was he who told me, at Lady 
Powderby’s ball, referring to the solid mass of humanity that 
packed itself between us and the door, that it was with 
the greatest difficulty that he finally gained the ball-room. 
4 Couldn’t get in at all at first,’ said he, 6 and while I was 
standin’ on the outside edge of the pavement, a bobby has the 
confounded impudence to tell me to move along. ‘ “ Can’t,” ’ 
says I — “ I’m at the party.” ’ 

I have always been grateful to the Aldershot officer for giving 
me that story to remember in connection with Lady Powderby’s 
ball, although Mr. Mafferton, when I retailed it, couldn’t see 
that it was in the least amusing. c Besides,’ he said, ‘ it’s as 
old as c< Punch.” ’ But at the end of the third dance Mr. Maffer- 
ton had been sent by Lady Torquilin to look for me, and was 
annoyed, I have no doubt, by the trouble he had to take to find 
me. And Mr. Mafferton’s sense of humour could never be con- 
sidered his strong point. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


1 8.1 


XVII 

A GREAT many other people were going to Aldershot the 
day we went there — so many that the train, which we ' 
were almost too late for, had nowhere two spare seats together. 
Just at the last minute, after Lady Torquilin had decided that 
we must travel separately, the guard unlocked the door of a 
first-class carriage occupied by three gentlemen alone. It 
afforded much more comfortable accommodation than the car- 
riage Lady Torquilin was crowded into, but there was no time 
to tell her, so I got in by myself, and sat down in the left-hand 
corner going backward, and prepared to enjoy the landscape. 
The gentlemen were so much more interesting, however, that 
I am afraid, though I ostensibly looked at the landscape, I paid 
much more attention to them, which I hope was comparatively 
proper, since they were not aware of it. They were all rather 
past middle age, all very trim, and all dressed to ride. There 
the similarity among them ended ; and besides being different 
from one another, they were all different from any American 
gentlemen I had ever met. That is the reason they were &o 
deeply interesting. 

One, who sat opposite me, was fair, with large blue eyes 
and an aquiline nose, and a well-defined, clean-shaven face, all 
but his graceful moustache. He was broad-shouldered and tall, 
and muscular and lean, and he lounged, illuminating his con- 
versation with a sweet and easy smile. He looked very clever, 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


182 



and I think he must have been told all his life that he re- 
sembled the Duke of Wellington. The one in the other corner, 
opposite, was rosy and round-faced, with twinkling blue eyes 
and a grey 
moustache, and 
he made a com- 
fortable angle 
with his rotund 
person and the 
wall, crossing his 
excellent legs. 


‘ I OSTENSIBLY LOOKED AT THE LANDSCAPE ’ 


The one on mj side, of whom I had necessarily an imperfect 
view, was very grey, and had a straight nose and a pair of level 
eyes, rather pink about the edges, and carefully-cut whiskers 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


1 8 s 



and sloping shoulders. He did not lounge at all, or even cross 
his legs, but sat bolt upright and read the. paper. He looked 
like a person of extreme views upon propriety, and a rather 
bad temper. The first man had the 4 Times,’ the second the 
4 Standard,’ and the third the 4 Morning Post.’ I think they 
all belonged to the upper classes. 

They began to 
talk, especially the 
two opposite, the 
lean man throwing 
his remarks and his 
easy smiles indo- 


THEY WERE ALL DIF 
FERENT FROM ANY AME 
RICAN GENTLEMEN ’ 


lently across the valises on the seat between them. He spoke of 
the traffic in Piccadilly, where 4 a brute of an omnibus’ had 
taken off a carriage-wheel for him the day before. He was of 
opinion that too many omnibuses were allowed to run through 
Piccadilly — 4 a considerable lot ’ too many. He also found 
the condition of one or two streets in that neighbourhood 
13 


i 84 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 

‘ disgustin’./ and was ‘ goin’ to call attention to it.’ All in cool, 
high, pleasant, indolent tones. 

‘Write a letter to the “Times/” said the other, with a 
broad smile, as if it were an excellent joke. ‘ I don’t mind 
reading it.’ 

The first smiled gently and thoughtfully down upon his 
boot. ‘Will you guarantee that anybody else does?’ said he. 
And they chaffed. My neighbour turned his paper impatiently, 
and said nothing. 

4 What’r’you goin’ to ride to-day ? ’ asked the first. His 
voice was delightfully refined. 

‘ Haven’t a notion. Believe they’ve got something for me 
down there. Expect the worst ’ — which also, for some unknown 
reason, seemed to amuse them very much. 

‘ You’ve heard ’bout Puhbelow, down heah year befoh last — 
old Puhbelow, used to c’mand 25th Wangers? A.D.C. wides 
up t’ Puhbelow an’ tells him he’s wanted at headquahtehs im- 
mediately. “ That case,” says Puhbelow, “ I’d better walk ! ” 
An’ he did,’ said my vis-a-vis. 

‘Lord!’ returned the other, ‘I hope it won’t come to 
that.’ 

< It’s the last day I shall be able to turn out/ he went on, 
ruefully. 

‘ For w’y ? ’ 

4 Can’t get inside my uniform another year.’ 

4 Supuhfluous adipose tissue ? ’ 

‘Rather! Attended the Levee last week, an’ came away 
black in the face! At my time o’ life a mans got to consider 
his buttons. Ton my word, I envy you lean dogs.’ He ad- 
dressed both his neighbour and the pink-eyed man, who tool 
no notice of the pleasantry, but folded his paper the other way: 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


185 


and said, without looking up, that that had been a very disas- 
trous flood in the United States. 

4 They do everything on a big scale over thayah, , remarked 
the man across from me, genially, 4 includin’ swindles/ 

The round-faced gentleman’s eye kindled with new interest. 

4 Were you let in on those Kakeboygan Limited s ? ’ he said. 

1 By Jove ! — abominable ! Never knew a cooler thing ! Must 
have scooped in fifty thousand ! ’ 

4 It was ve’y painful,’ said the other, unexcitedly. 4 By th’ 
way, what d’you think of Little Toledos ? ’ 

4 Don’t know anything about ’em. Bought a few — daresay 
I’ve dropped my money.’ 

4 Wilkinson wanted me to buy. Lunched the beast last 
week, expectin’ to get a pointer. Confounded sharp scoundrel, 
Wilkinson ! ’ And this gentleman smiled quite seraphically. 
4 Still expectin’. I see Oneida Centrals have reached a pre- 
mium. Bought a lot eight months ago for a song. Cheapah 
to buy ’em, I thought, than waste more money in somethin’ I 
knew as little about ! There’s luck ! ’ This stage of the con- 
versation found me reflecting upon the degree of depravity 
involved in getting the better of the business capacity which 
made its investments on these principles. I did not meditate a 
defence for my fellow-countrymen, but I thought they had a 
pretty obvious temptation. 

The talk drifted upon clubs, and the gentlemen expressed 
their preferences. 4 Hear you’re up for the Army and Navy,’ 
said the rosy-faced one. 

4 Ye-es. Beastly bore getting in,’ returned he of the aqui- 
line nose, dreamily. 

4 How long ? ’ 

4 ’Bout two years, I believe. I’m up again for the United 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


1 86 

Service, too. Had a fit of economy in ’85 — year of the Taran- 
tillas smash — you were in that, too, wehn’t you ? — an’ knocked 
off five o’ six o’ my clubs. They make no end of a wow about 
lettin’ you in again/ 

4 Well, the Rag’s good enough for me, and the Lyric’s 
convenient to take a lady to. They say the Corinthian’s the 
thing to belong to now, though,’ said the round gentleman, 
tentatively. 

6 If you have a taste for actresses,’ returned the other, with 
another tender glance at his boot. 

Then it appeared, from a remark from the pink-eyed one, 
that he dined at the Carlton four nights out of seven — stood 
by the Carlton — hoped he might never enter a better club — 
never met a cad there in his life. Fairly lived there when he 
wasn’t in Manchester. 

* D’you live in Manchester ? ’ drawled the thin gentleman, 
quite agreeably. Now, what was there in that to make the 
pink-eyed one angry ? Is Manchester a disreputable place 
to live in ? But he was — as angry as possible. The pink 
spread all over, under his close-trimmed whiskers and down 
behind his collar. He answered, in extremely rasping and 
sub-indignant tones, that he had a 4 place near it,’ and retired 
from the conversation. 

Then the rotund gentleman stated that there were few 
better clubs than the Constitutional ; and then, what a view 
you could get from the balconies ! 4 Tremendous fine view,’ he 

said, 4 1 tell you, at night, when the place is lighted up, an’ 
the river in the distance ’ 

c Moon?’ inquired his companion, sweetly. But the stout 
gentleman’s robust sentiment failed him at this point, and he 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


187 


turned the conversation abruptly to something else — a c house- 
party 9 somewhere. 

1 Have you got what they call a pleasant invitation ? 9 the 
other asked ; and the portly one said Yes, in fact he had three, 
with a smile of great satisfaction. Just then the train stopped, 
and we all changed cars, and I, rejoining Lady Torquilin, lost 
my entertaining fellow-passengers. I was sorry it stopped at 
that point, because I particularly wanted to know what a house- 
party and a pleasant invitation were — they seemed to me to be 
idiomatic, and I had already begun to collect English idioms 
to take home with me. In fact, I should have liked to have gone 
on observing the landscape from my unobtrusive corner all the 
way to Aldershot if I could — these gentlemen made such inte- 
resting incidents to the journey — though I know I have told 
you that two or three times before, without making you under- 
stand in the least, I am afraid, how or why they did. There 
was a certain opulence and indifference about them which 
differed from the kind of opulence and indifference you gene- 
rally see in the United States in not being in the least assumed. 
They did not ignore the fact of my existence in the corner — 
they talked as if they were not aware of it. And they had 
worn the conventionalism of England so long that it had become 
a sort of easy uniform, which they didn’t know they had on. 
They impressed you as having always before them, uncon- 
sciously, a standard of action and opinion — though their per- 
ception of it might be as different as possible — and as conducting 
themselves in very direct relation to that standard. I don’t 
say this because none of them used bad language or smoked 
in my presence. The restraint was not to be defined — a delicate, 
all-pervasive thing ; and it was closely connected with a lack 


i88 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 

of enthusiasm upon any subject, except the approach to it the 
rounded gentleman made with reference to the Constitutional 
view. They could not be considered flippant, and yet their 
talk played very lightly upon the surface of their minds, making 
no drafts upon any reserve store of information or opinion. 
This was odd to me. I am sure no three Americans who knew 
each other could travel together in a box about six by eight 
without starting a theory and arguing about it seriously, or 
getting upon politics, or throwing themselves into the conver- 
sation in some way or other. 

But I have no doubt that, to be impressed with such things 
as these, you must be brought up in Chicago, where people are 
different. Lady Torquilin was unable to tell me anything about 
the gentlemen from my description of them ; she said they were 
exactly like anybody else, and as for gambling in stocks, she 
had no sympathy with anybody who lost — seeming to think that 
I had, and that that was what had attracted my attention. 

The young officer was at Aldershot Station to meet us, 
looking quite a different person in his uniform. I cant pos- 
sibly describe the uniform, or you would know the regiment, 
and possibly the officer, if you are acquainted with Aldershot — 
which he might not like. But I may say, without fear of 
identifying him, that he wore a red coat, and looked very hand- 
some in it— red is such a popular colour among officers in 
England, and so generally becoming. He was a lieutenant, 
and his name was Oddie Pratte. By the time I found this out, 
which was afterwards, when Mr. Pratte had occasion to write 
two or three letters to me, which he signed in that way, I had 
noticed how largely pet names cling to gentlemen in England 

not only to young gentlemen in the Army, but even to 

middle-aged family men. Mr. Winterhazel’s name is Bertram, 





‘ OI)I>IE PRATTIE ’ 




190 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


and I should be interested to hear what he would say if any one 
addressed him as 4 Bertie.’ I think he would be mad, as we 
say in America. If I had ever called him anything but Mr. 
Winterhazel — which I have not — I would do it myself when I 
return, just for an experiment. I don’t think any gentleman 
in the United States, out of pinafores, could be called 4 Bertie ’ 
with impunity. We would contract it into the brutal brevity of 
4 Bert,’ and ‘ Eddie ’ to 4 Ed,’ and ‘Willie’ to ‘Will,’ and 
4 Bobby ’ to 4 Bob.’ But it is a real pleasing feature of your 
civilisation, this overlapping of nursery tenderness upon maturer 
years, and I hope it will spread. What 4 0ddie’ was derived 
from I never got to know Mr. Pratte well enough to ask, but 
he sustained it with more dignity than I would have believed 
possible. That is the remarkable — at any rate a remarkable — 
characteristic of you English people. You sustain everything 
with dignity, from your Lord Mayor’s Show to your farthing 
change. You are never in the least amused at yourselves. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


I9 1 


XVIII 


WF’LY glad you’re been able to come!’ said Mr. Pratte, 



leading the way to his dogcart, quite a marked figure, in 
his broad red shoulders, among the dark-coloured crowd at the 
station. ‘ There’s so much going on in the village I was afraid 
you’d change your mind. Frightful state of funk, I assure you, 
every time the post came in ! ’ Mr. Pratte spoke to Lady 
Torquilin, but looked across at me. We are considerably more 
simple than this in America. If a gentleman wants to say some* 
thing polite to you, he never thinks of transmitting it through 
somebody else. But your way is much the most convenient. 
It gives one the satisfaction of being complimented without the 
embarrassment of having to reply in properly negative terms. 
So it was Lady Torquilin who said how sorry we should have 
been to miss it, and I found no occasion for remark until we 
were well started. Then I made the unavoidable statement that 
Aldershot seemed to be a pretty place, though I am afraid it 
did not seriously occur to me that it was. 

‘Oh, it’s a hole of sorts ! ’ remarked Mr. Pratte. ‘But to 
see it in its pristine beauty you should be here when it rains. 
It’s adorable then ! ’ By that time I had observed that Mr. 
Pratte had very blue eyes, with a great deal of laugh in them. 
His complexion you could find in America only at the close of 
the seaside season, among the people who have just come home, 
and even then it would be patchy — it would not have the solid 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


vcyt 

richness of tint that Mr. Pratte’s had. It was a wholesome 
complexion, and it went very well with the rest of Mr. Pratte. 
I liked its tones of brown and red, and the way it deepened in 
his nose and the back of his neck. In fact, I might as well say 
in the beginning that I liked Mr. Pratte altogether — there was 
something very winning about him. His manner was vari- 
able : sometimes extremely flippant, sometimes — and then he let 
his eyeglass drop — profoundly serious, and sometimes, when he 
had it in mind, preserving a level of cynical indifference that 
was impressively interesting, and seemed to stand for a deep and 
unsatisfactory experience of life. For the rest, he was just a tall 
young subaltern, very anxious to be amused, with a dog. 

Mr. Pratte went on to say that he was about the only man in 
the place not on parade. There was some recondite reason for 
this, which I have forgotten. Lady Torquilin asked him how his 
mother and sisters were, and he said : c Oh, they were as fit as 
possible, thanks, according to latest despatches/ which I at once 
mentally put down as a lovely idiom for use in my next Chicago 
letter. I wanted, above all things, to convince them at home 
that I was wasting no time so far as the language was concerned ; 
and I knew they would not understand it, which was, of course, 
an additional pleasure. I would express myself very clearly 
about it though, I thought, so as not to suggest epilepsy or any- 
thing of that sort. 

Americans are nearly always interested in public buildings. 
We are very proud of our own, and generally point them out 
to strangers before anything else, and I was surprised that Mr. 
Pratte mentioned nothing of the sort as we drove through 
Aldershot. So the first one of any size or importance that met 
my eye I asked him about. c That, I suppose, is your jail ?’ I 
said, with polite interest, as we came in sight of a long building 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


193 


with that simplicity of exterior that always characterises jails. 
Our subaltern gave vent to a suppressed roar. £ What is she 
saying now ? ’ asked Lady Torquilin, who had not been paying 
attention. 

c She says — oh, I say, Auntie, what a score ! Miss Wick 
has just pointed out that building as Aldershot jail ! ’ 

i Isn’t it ? ’ said I. 

‘ I’m afraid Miss Wick is pullin’ our leg, Auntie ! 9 

Now, I was in the back seat, and what could have induced 
Mr. Pratte to charge me with so unparalleled and impossible a 
familiarity I couldn’t imagine, not being very far advanced in 
the language at the time ; but when Mr. Pratte explained that 
the buildings I referred to were the officers’ quarters, with his 
own colonel’s at one end — and c Great Scott ! ’ said Mr. Pratte, 
going off again, £ What would the old man say to that ? ’ — I felt 
too much overcome by my own stupidity to think about it. I have 
since realised that I was rather shocked. It was, of course, im- 
possible to mention public buildings again in any connection, and, 
although I spent a long and agreeable day at Aldershot, if you 
w r ere to ask me whether it had so much as a town pump, I 
couldn’t tell you. But I must say I am not of the opinion that 
it had. To speak American, it struck me as being rather a 
one-horse town, though nothing could be nicer than I found it 
as a military centre. 

We drove straight out of town to the parade-ground, over a 
road that wound through rugged-looking, broken fields, yellow 
with your wonderful flaming gorse and furze, which struck me 
as contrasting oddly with the neatness of your landscapes gene- 
rally. When I remarked upon their uncultivated state, Mr. 
Pratte said, with some loftiness, that military operations were 
not advantageously conducted in standing corn — meaning wheat 


194 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 



— and I decided for the rest of the day to absorb information, 
as far as possible, without inquiring for it. 

It was a lovely day — no clouds, no dust, nothing but blue 
sky, and sunshine on the gorse ; and plenty of people, all of 
whom seemed to have extreme views upon the extraordinary 
fineness of the weather, were on their way to the parade- 
ground, chiefly driving in dogcarts. Whenever we passed a 


‘ WE DROVE STRAIGHT OUT OF TOWN TO THE PARADE-GROUND * 

lady in anything more ambitious, Mr. Pratte invariably saluted 
very nicely indeed, and told Lady Torquilin that she was the 
wife of Colonel So-and-so, commanding the somethingth some- 
thing. And I noticed all through the day what a great deal of 
consideration these ladies received from everybody, and what 
extraordinary respect was accorded to their husbands. I have 
no doubt it is a class distinction of yours, and very proper ; but 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


195 


I could not help thinking of the number of colonels and their 
families we have at home, and how little more we think of 
them on that account. Poppa’s head man in the baking- 
powder business for years was a colonel — Colonel Canister ; so 
is poppa himself — and I never knew either of them show that 
they thought anything of it. I suppose momma’s greatest friend 
is Mrs. Colonel Pabbly, but that is because their tastes are 
similar and their families about the same age. For that matter, 
I daresay one-third of the visiting-cards momma receives have 
i Colonel ’ between the 4 Mrs.’ and the last name. It is really 
no particular distinction in America. 

We were rather late, and all the best places had been taken 
up by the dogcarts of other people. They formed an apparently 
unbroken front, or, more properly, back, wherever we wanted to 
get in. By some extraordinary means, however, more as a 
matter of course than anything else — it couldn’t have been done 
in America — Mr. Pratte inserted his dogcart in an extremely 
advantageous position, and I saw opposite, and far off, the long, 
long double line of soldiers, stretching and wavering as the 
country dipped and swelled under the sky. ‘ In a minute,’ 
said Mr. Pratte, ‘you’ll hear the “furious joy”’ — and an instant 
later there came splitting and spitting against the blue, from 
east to west, and from west to east, the chasing white smoke- 
jets of the feu de joie . You have a few very good jokes in 
England. 

It seemed to me that two of the bands which defied each 
other for the rest of the morning began playing at that instant 
to prevent any diminution in the furious joy, while the long line 
of soldiers broke up into blocks, each block going off somewhere 
by itself ; and Mr. Pratte told Lady Torquilin about a dance in 
town the night before, where he met a lot of people he loved 


196 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


‘Was the fair and only one there?’ Lady Torquilin inquired 
with archness ; and Mr. Pratte’s countenance suddenly became 
rueful as he dropped his eyeglass. ‘ Yes,’ he said ; ‘ but there’s 
a frost on — we don’t play with each other any more ! * And 
I believe other confidences followed, which I did not feel entitled 
to hear, so I divided my attention between the two bands and 
the parade. One band stood still at a little distance, and played 
as hard as possible continually, and every regiment sent its own 
band gloriously on ahead of it with the colonel, generally getting 
the full significance out of a Scotch jig, which Mr. Pratte said was 
the ‘ march-past.’ It made a most magnificently effective noise. 

I hope the person for whose benefit that parade was chiefly 
intended — I believe there is always some such person in connec- 
tion with parades — was as deeply impressed with it as I was. 
It was the first time I had ever seen English soldiers in bulk, 
and they presented a threatening solidity which I should think 
would be very uninteresting to the enemy. There are more 
interstices in our regiments — I think it must be admitted that 
we are nationally thinner than you are. Besides, what we are 
still in the habit of calling ‘ our recent unpleasantness ’ hap- 
pened about a quarter of a century ago, and I shouldn’t think 
myself that a taste for blood could survive that period of peace 
and comfort, to be very obvious. Certainly, Chicago parades 
had not prepared me for anything so warlike as this. Not that 
I should encourage anybody to open hostilities with us, however 
Though we are thin, we might be found lively. 

The cavalry regiments were splendid, with the colonel’s horse 
as conscious as anybody of what was expected of him, as the 
colonel’s horse, stepping on ahead; and particularly the Lancers, 
with their gay little pennons flying ; but there was not the 
rhythmic regularity in their movement that was so beautiful to 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


197 



* WITH THEIR GAY LITTLE PENNONS FLYING ’ 


see in the infantry coming aft 
absurd — there were so many 
admirable — that the 

parade was that long, 
saw from the rear as 
once ; but it seemed to 
of martial order in it, 

That, and the swing of 
gleam of the sun on 


t. Lady Torquilin found it very 
points to notice that were more 
thing I liked best in the whole 
quick, instant crinkle that we 
every man bent his knee at 
me to have the whole essence 
and to hold great fascination, 
the Highlanders’ kilts, and the 
their philabegs, and the pride 


of their marching. That Aldershot Highland regiment, with its 
screaming bagpipes, seemed, to my Chicago imagination, to have 
marched straight out of Inkermann. Then came the South Wales 


198 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


Borderers, and I heard the story of the Isandula colours, with 
the Queen’s little gold wreath above them, that went, preciously 
furled, in the middle. I wished then — though it is not consistent 
with the Monroe doctrine — that we had a great standing army, 
with traditions and a constant possibility of foreign fighting. It 
may be discouraging to the increase of the male population, but 
it encourages sentiment, and is valuable on that account. 

So they all came and passed and went, and came and 
passed and went again, three times — the whole ten thousand 
cavalry, infantry, artillery, commissariat, ambulance, doctors, 
mules, and all — with a great dust, and much music, and a 
tremendous rattling and bumping when the long waggons came, 
at the rear of which a single soldier sat in each, with his legs 
hanging down, looking very sea-sick and unhappy. And they 
showed me a prince-subaltern, walking through the dust beside 
his company with the others. Nobody seemed to see anything 
remarkable in this but me, so I thought it best to display no 
surprise. But the nominal nature of some privileges in England 
began to grow upon me. I also saw a mule — a stout, well- 
grown, talented mule — who did nob wish to parade. I was glad 
of the misbehaviour of that mule. It reduced to some extent 
the gigantic proportions of my respect for the British Army. 

I met some of the colonels, and their wives and daughters, 
afterwards, and in most cases I was lost in admiration of the 
military tone of the whole family. Chicago colonels often have 
very little that is strikingly military about them, and their families 
nothing at all. But here the daughters carried themselves erect, 
moved stiffly but briskly, and turned on their heels as sharply as if 
they were on the parade-ground. I suppose it would be difficult 
to live in such constant association with troops and barracks, and 
salutes and sentries, and the word of command, without assimi- 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


199 


lating somewhat of the distinctive charm of these things ; and the 
way some of the colonels’ ladies clipped their sentences, and held 
their shoulders, and otherwise identified themselves with their 
regiments, was very taking. It explained itself further when I 
saw the 4 quarters 9 in which one or two of them kept house — 
very pleasant quarters, where we received most interesting and 
delightful hospitality. But it would be odd if domesticity in 
a series of rooms very square and very similar, with 4 C. 0/ 
painted in black letters over all their doors, did not develop 
something a little different from the ordinary English lady 
accustomed to cornices and 'portieres . 

Then came lunch at the mess, at which, as the colonel took 
care of Lady Torquilin, I had the undivided attention of Mr. 
Oddie Pratte, which I enjoyed. Mr. Pratte was curious upon 
the subject of American girls at home — he told me he began 
to believe himself misinformed about them — seriously, and 
dropping his eyeglass. He would like to know accurately — 
under a false impression one made such awkward mistakes — 
well, for instance, if it were true that they were up to all sorts 
of games at home, how was it they were all so deucedly solemn 
when they came over here ? Mr. Pratte hoped I wouldn’t be 
offended — of course, he didn’t mean that I was solemn — but — 
well, I knew what he meant — I must know ! And wouldn’t I 
have some more sugar for those strawberries ? 4 1 like crowds 

of sugar, don’t you ? ’ said Mr. Oddie Pratte. Another thing, 
he had always been told that they immediately wanted to see 
Whitechapel. Now he had asked every American girl he’d met 
this season whether she had seen Whitechapel, and not one of 
’em had. He wasn’t going to ask me on that account. They 
didn’t, as a rule, seem to see the joke of the thing. Mr. Pratte 
would like to know if I had ever met the M’Clures, of New 
14 


200 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


York — Nellie M’Clure was a great pal of his — and was disap- 
pointed that I hadn’t. The conversation turned to India, whither 
Mr. Pratte’s regiment was ordered to proceed immediately, and 
I received a good deal of information as to just how amusing life 
night be made there from Mr. Pratte. 4 They say a man 
marries as soon as he learns enough Anglo-Indian to propose in ! * 
he remarked, with something like anticipative regret. 4 First 
dance apt to be fatal — bound to bowl over before the end of the 
season. Simla girl is known to be irresistible.’ And Lady 
Torquilin, catching this last, put in her oar in her own inimi- 
table way. ‘ You’re no nephew of mine, Oddie,’ said she, c if 
you can’t say “ No.”’ Whereat I was very sorry for Oddie, and 
forgave him everything. 

There was tea on the lawn afterwards, and bagpipes to the 
full lung-power of three Highlanders at once, walking up and 
down, and beating time on the turf with one foot in a manner 
that was simply extraordinary considering the nature of what 
they were playing ; and conversation with more Aldershot ladies, 
followed by an inspection in a body of Mr. Pratte’s own particu- 
lar corner of the barracks, full of implements of war, and 
charming photographs, and the performance of Mr. Pratte’s in- 
tellectual, small dog. That ended the Aldershot parade. We 
have so few parades of any sort in America, except when some- 
body of importance dies — and then they are apt to be depressing 
—that I was particularly glad to have seen it. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


209 


XIX 

P OPPA’S interests in London necessitated his having lawyers 
there — Messrs. Pink, Pink & Co., of Cheapside. If you 
know New York, you will understand me when I say that I had 
always thought Cheapside a kind of Bowery, probably full of 
second-hand clothing shops and ice-cream parlours — the last 
place I should think of looking for a respectable firm of solicitors 
in, especially after cherishing the idea all my life that London 
lawyers were to be found only in Chancery Lane. But that was 
Messrs. Pink & Pink’s address, and the mistake was one of the 
large number you have been kind enough to correct for me. 

It was a matter of some regret to poppa that Messrs. Pink 
& Pink were bachelors, and could not very well be expected to 
exert themselves for me personally on that account ; two Mrs. 
Pinks, he thought, might have done a little to make it pleasant 
for me in London, and would, probably, have put themselves out 
more or less to do it. But there was no Mrs. Pink, so I was 
indebted to these gentlemen for money only, which they sent me 
whenever I wrote to them for it, by arrangement with poppa. 
I was surprised, therefore, to receive one morning an extremely 
polite note from Messrs. Pink & Pink, begging me to name 
an afternoon when it would be convenient for me to call at 
their office, in order that Messrs. Pink & Pink might have the 
honour of discussing with me a matter of private business 
important to myself. I thought it delightfully exciting, 


202 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


and wrote at once that I would come next day. I speculated 
considerably in the meantime as to what the important private 
matter could possibly be — since, beyond my address, Messrs. 
Pink & Pink knew nothing whatever of my circumstances in 
London — but did not tell Lady Torquilin, for fear she would 
think she ought to come with me, and nothing spoils an important 
private matter like a third person. 

‘ 1st Floor, Messrs. Dickson & Dawes, Architects ; 2nd 
Floor, Norwegian Life Insurance Co. ; 3rd floor, Messrs. Pink & 
Pink, Solicitors/ read the framed directory inside the door 
in black letters on a yellow ground. I looked round in vain for 
an elevator-boy, though the narrow, dark, little, twisting 
stairway was so worn that I might have known that the pro- 
prietors were opposed to this innovation. I went from floor to 
floor rejoicing. At last I had found a really antique interior in 
London ; there was not a cobweb lacking in testimony. It was 
the very first I had come across in my own private investigations, 
and I had expected them all to be like this. 

Four or five clerks were writing at high desks in the room 
behind the frosted-glass door with c Pink & Pink 5 on it. There 
was a great deal of the past in this room also, and in its associations 
- — impossible to realise in America — which I found gratifying. 
The clerks were nearly all elderly, for one thing — grey-headed 
men. Since then I’ve met curates of about the same date. 
The curates astonished me even more than the clerks. A 
curate is such a perennially young person with us. You 
would find about as many aged schoolboys as elderly curates in 
America. I suppose our climate is more favourable to rapid 
development than yours, and they become full-fledged clergymen 
or lawyers after a reasonable apprenticeship. If not, they must 
come within the operation of some evolutionary law by which they 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


203 


disappear. America is a place where there is very little room 
for anachronisms. 

Beside the elderly clerks, the room had an air of old leather, 
and three large windows with yellow blinds pinned up — in these 
days of automatic rollers. Through the windows I noticed the 
cheerful chimneys and spires of London, E.C., rising out of that 
lovely atmospheric tone of yellow which is so becoming to them ; 
and down below — if I could only have got near enough — 1 am 
certain I should have seen a small dismantled graveyard, with 
mossy tombstones of different sizes a long way out of the 
perpendicular. I have become accustomed to finding graveyards 
in close connection with business enterprise in London, and they 
appeal to me. It is very nice of you to 
let them stay just where they were put 
originally, when you are so crowded. 

At home there isn’t a dead person in 
existence, so to speak, that would have 
a chance in a locality like Cheapside. 

And they must suggest to you all sorts 
of useful and valuable things about the 
futility of ambition and the deceitful- 
ness of riches down there under your 
very noses, as it were, whenever you 
pause to look at them. I can quite 
understand your respect for them, even 
in connection with what E.C. frontage 
prices must be, and I hope, though 
I can’t be sure, that there was one 
attached to the offices in Cheapside of Messrs. Pink & Pink. 

The clerks all looked up with an air of inquiry when I went 
in, and I selected the only one who did not immediately duck 



204 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


to his work again for my interrogation. It was an awkward 
interrogation to make, and I made it awkwardly. 4 Are the 
Mr. Pinks in ? ’ I asked ; for I did not know in the least how 
many of them wanted to see me. 

4 1 believe so, miss/ said the elderly clerk, politely, laying 
down his pen. 4 Would it be Mr. A. Pink, or Mr. W. W. 
Pink?’ 

I said I really didn’t know. 

4 Ah ! In that case it would be Mr. A. Pink. Shouldn’t 
you say so ? ’ — turning to the less mature clerk, who responded 
loftily, from a great distance, and without looking, 4 Probably.’ 
Whereupon the elderly one got down from his stool, and took 
me himself to the door with 4 Mr. A. Pink ’ on it, knocked, 
spoke to someone inside, then ushered me into the presence of 
Mr. A. Pink, and withdrew. 

The room, I regret to say, did not match its surroundings, 
and could not have been thought of in connection with a grave- 
yard. It was quite modern, with a raised leather wall-paper 
and revolving chairs. I noticed this before I saw the tall, thin, 
depressed-looking gentleman who had risen, and was bowing to 
me, at the other end of it. He was as bald as possible, and 
might have been fifty, with long, grey side-whiskers, that fell 
upon a suit of black, very much wrinkled where Mr. Pink did 
not fill it out. His mouth was abruptly turned down at the 
corners, with lines of extreme reserve about it, and whatever 
complexion he might have had originally was quite gone, leaving 
only a modified tone of old-gold behind it. 4 Dear me ! ’ I 
thought, 4 there can be nothing interesting or mysterious here.’ 

Mr. Pink first carefully ascertained whether I was Miss 
Wick, of Chicago ; after which he did not shake hands, as I had 
vaguely expected him to do, being poppa’s solicitor, but said, 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


205 


1 Pray be seated, Miss Wick ! ’ — and we both sat down in the 
revolving chairs, preserving an unbroken gravity. 

4 You have been in London some weeks, I believe, Miss 
Wick,’ said Mr. A. Pink, tentatively. He did not know quite 
how long, because for the first month I had plenty of money, 
without being obliged to apply for it. I smiled, and said 
‘Yes!’ with an inflection of self-congratulation. I was very 
curious, but saw no necessity for giving more information than 
was actually asked for. 

4 Your — ah — father wrote us that you were coming over 
alone. That must have required great courage on the part of’ — 
here Mr. Pink cleared his throat — 1 so young a lady ; 9 and Mr. 
Pink smiled a little narrow, dreary smile. 

4 Oh, no ! 9 I said, 4 it didn’t, Mr. Pink.’ 

4 You are — ah — quite comfortable, I hope, in Oadogan 
Mansions. I think it is Oadogan Mansions, is it not ? — Yes.’ 

4 Very comfortable indeed, thank you, Mr. Pink. They are 
comparatively modern, and the elevator makes it seem more or 
less like home.’ 

Mr. Pink brightened ; he evidently wished me to be discur- 
sive. 4 Indeed ! ’ he said — 4 Ye-es ? ’ 

4 Yes,’ I returned ; 4 when I have time I always use the 
elevator.’ 

4 That is not, I think, the address of the lady your father 
mentioned to us as your only relative in London, Miss Wick ? 9 

4 Oh no,’ I responded, cheerfully ; 4 Mrs. Cummers Portheris 
lives in Half-Moon Street, Mr. Pink.’ 

4 Ah, so I understand. Pardon the inquiry, Miss Wick, but 
was there not some expectation on your father’s part that you 
would pass the time of your visit in London with Mrs. 
Portheris ? ’ 


206 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


c On all our parts, Mr. Pink. But it vanished the day after 
I arrived ’ — and I could not help smiling as I remembered the 
letter I had written from the Metropole telling the Wick family 
about my reception by my affectionate relation. 

Mr. Pink smiled too, a little doubtfully as well as drearily 
this time. He did not seem to know quite how to proceed. 

1 Pardon me again, Miss Wick, but there must be occasions, 
I should think, when you would feel your — ah — comparative 
isolation’ — and Mr. Pink let one of his grey whiskers run through 
his long, thin hand. 

‘Very seldom,’ I said ; c there is so much to see in London, 
Mr. Pink. Even the store-windows are entertaining to a 
stranger * — and I wondered more than ever what was coming. 

‘ I see — I see. You make little expeditions to various points 
of interest — the Zoological Gardens, the Crystal Palace, and so 
forth.’ 

It began to be like the dialogues in the old-fashioned read- 
ing-books, carefully marked c Q.’ and ‘ A.’ 

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I do. I haven’t seen the Zoo yet, but I’ve 

seen Mrs. Por ’ ; there I stopped, knowing that Mr. Pink 

could not be expected to perceive the sequence of my ideas. 

But he seemed to conclude that he had ascertained as much 
as was necessary. ‘ I think, Miss Wick,’ he said, c we must 
come to the point at once. You have not been in England 
long, and you may or may not be aware of the extreme diffi- 
culty which attaches — er — to obtaining — that is to say, which 
Amer — foreigners find in obtaining anything like a correct idea 
of — of social institutions here. To a person, I may say, with- 
out excellent introductions, it is, generally speaking, impos- 
sible.’ 

I said I had heard of this difficulty. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


-let] 






208 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


4 I do not know whether you, personally, have any curiosity 
upon this point, but ’ 

I hastened to say that I had a great deal, 

4 But I should say that it was probable. There are few 
persons of your intelligence, Miss Wick, I venture to hazard, by 
whom a knowledge of English society, gained upon what might 
be termed a footing of intimacy, would fail to be appreciated.’ 

I bowed. It was flattering to be thought intelligent by Mr. 
Pink. 

4 The question now resolves itself, to come, as I have said, 
straight to the point, Miss Wick, into whether you would or 
would not care to take steps to secure it.’ 

4 That would depend, I should think, upon the nature of the 
steps, Mr. Pink. I may as well ask you immediately whether 
they have anything to do with Miss Purkiss.’ 

4 Nothing whatever — nothing whatever ! ’ Mr. Pink hastened 
to assure me. 4 I do not know the lady. The steps which 
have recommended themselves to me for you would be taken 
upon a — upon a basis of mutual accommodation, Miss Wick, 
involving remuneration, of course, upon your side . 5 

4 Oh ! ’ said I, comprehendinglv. 

4 And in connection with a client of our own — an old, and, I 
may say, a highly -esteemed ’ — and Mr. Pink made a little 
respectful forward inclination of his neck — 4 client of our own.’ 

I left the burden of explanation wholly to Mr. Pink, content- 
ing myself with looking amiable and encouraging. 

4 A widow of Lord Bandobust,’ said Mr. Pink, with an eye 
to the effect of this statement. The effect was bad— I could 
not help wondering how many Lord Bandobust had, and said, 
4 Really ! ’ with an effort to conceal it. 

4 Lady Bandobust, somewhat late in life — this, of course, is 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


209 


confidential, Miss Wick — finds herself in a position to — to ap- 
preciate any slight addition to her income. His lordship’s 
rather peculiar will — but I need not go into that. It is, perhaps, 



sufficient to say that Lady Bandobust is in a position to give 
you every advantage, Miss Wick — every advantage.’ 

This was fascinating, and I longed to hear more. 4 It 
seems, a little indefinite,’ said I to Mr. Pink. 


2IC 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


4 It does, certainly — you are quite right, Miss Wick — it does. 
Beyond approaching you, however, and ascertaining your views, 
1 am not instructed to act in the matter. Ascertaining your 
views in particular, I should say, as regards the sum mentioned 
by Lady Bandobust as a — a proper equivalent — ahem ! ’ 

4 What is her ladyship’s charge ? ’ I inquired. 

4 Lady Bandobust would expect three hundred pounds. My 
client wishes it to be understood that in naming this figure she 
takes into consideration the fact that the season is already well 
opened,’ Mr. Pink said. 4 Of course, additional time must be 
allowed to enable you to write to your parents ’ 

4 1 see,’ I said ; 4 it does not strike me as exorbitant, Mr. 
Pink, considering what Lady Bandobust has to sell.’ 

Mr. Pink smiled rather uncomfortably. ‘You Americans 
are so humorous,’ he said, with an attempt at affability. 
4 Well ’ — drawing both whiskers through his hand conclusively, 
and suddenly standing up — 4 will you step this way, Miss Wick ? 
My client has done me the honour of calling in person about 
this matter, and as your visits, oddly enough, coincide, you will 
be glad of the opportunity of going into details with her.’ And 
Mr. A. Pink opened the door leading into the room of Mr. W. 
W. Pink. I was taken by surprise, but am afraid I should 
have gone in even after time for mature deliberation, I was so 
deeply, though insincerely, interested in the details. 


AN AMERICAN GiRL IN LONDON 


211 


XX 


ADY BANDOBUST, may 
I have the honour of in- 
troducing Miss Wick, of 
Chicago? ’ said Mr. Pink, 
solemnly, bowing as if he 
himself were being introduced 
to somebody. 4 I could not do 
better, I am sure, Miss Wick, 
than leave you in Lady Bando- 
bust’s hands ’ — with which 
master-stroke of politeness Mr. 
Pink withdrew, leaving me, 
as he said, in Lady Bando- 
bust’s hands. She was a little 
old woman in black, with 
sharp eyes, a rather large, 
hooked nose, and a discon- 
tented mouth, over which 
hovered an expression of being actively bored. She had sloping 
shoulders, and little thin fingers in gloves much too long for 
them, and her bonnet dated back five seasons. Her whole 
appearance, without offering any special point for criticism, 
suggested that appreciation of any pecuniary advantage of which 
Mr. Pink had spoken, though her manner gave me definitely to 



212 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 



after acknowledging my bow with a small perfunctory smile, a 
half-effort to rise, and a vague vertebral motion at the back of 


understand that she did not care one jot about it. She was 
looking out of the window when Mr. Pink and I came in, and 


1 LADY BANDOBUST ’ 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


213 


her neck, she looked out of the window again. I am convinced 
that there was nothing in the view that could possibly interest 
her, yet constantly, in the course of our conversation, Lady 
Bandobust looked out of the window. She was the most un- 
interested person I have had the pleasure of talking to in 
England. 

I said it was a lovely day. 

4 Yes,’ said Lady Bandobust. 4 Mr. Pink tells me you are an 
American, Miss Wick, though anybody could see that much. 
He knows your father, I believe ? ’ 

4 Not personally, I think,’ I returned. 4 Poppa has never 
visited England, Lady Bandobust.’ 

4 Perhaps we had better say 44 financially,” then — knows him 
financially.’ 

‘ I daresay that is all that is necessary,’ I said, innocently at 
the time, though I have since understood Lady Bandobust’s 
reason for looking at me so sharply. 

4 You come from Chinchinnatti, I understand from Mr. Pink,’ 
she continued. 

4 I beg your pardon ? Oh, Oincinatti ! No, from Chicago, 
Lady Bandobust.’ 

4 I understood from Mr. Pink that you came from Chinchin- 
natti — the place where people make millions in tinned pork. I 
had a nephew there for seven years, so I ought to know some- 
thing about it,’ said Lady Bandobust, with some asperity. 4 But 
if you say you are from Chickago, I have no doubt you are 
right.’ 

4 Mr. Pink informed me,’ continued Lady Bandobust, 4 that 
he thought you might feel able to afford to see a little of English 
society. I’ve noticed that Americans generally like to do that 
if they can.’ 






AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


215 


I said I was sure it would be interesting. 

• It is very difficult/ said Lady Bandobust — 4 extremely 
difficult. It is impossible that you should know how difficult 
it is.’ 

I remarked modestly, by way of reply, that I believed few 
things worth having were easy to get. 

Lady Bandobust ignored the generalisation. 4 As Mr. Pink 
has probably told you, it costs money/ said she, with another 
little concessive smile. 

4 Then, perhaps, it is not so difficult after all/ I replied, 
amiably. 

Lady Bandobust gave me another sharp look. 4 Only you 
rich Americans can afford to say that/ she said. 4 But Mr. Pink 
has told me that the expense would in all likelihood be a matter 
of indifference to your people. That, of course, is important.’ 

* Poppa doesn’t scrimp,’ I said. 4 He likes us to have a good 
time.’ 

4 Regardless,’ said Lady Bandobust — 4 regardless of the cost ! 
That is very liberal.’ 

‘Americans/ she went on, 4 in English society are very 
fortunate. They are always considered as — as Americans, you 
understand ’ 

4 I’m afraid I don’t,’ said I. 

4 And I think, on the whole, they are rather liked. Yes^ 
generally speaking, I think I may say they are liked.’ 

I tried to express my gratification. 

4 As a rule,’ said Lady Bandobust, absently, 4 they spend so 
much money in England.’ 

4 There can be no doubt of the advantages of an experience 
of English society,’ she continued, rather as if I had suggested 
one, 4 To a young lady especially it is invaluable — it leads to 
15 


21 6 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


so much. I don’t know quite to what extent you would ex- 
pect ’ Here Lady Bandobust paused, as if waiting for data 

on which to proceed. 

4 1 would expect ? ’ I repeated, not quite understanding. 

‘ But I think I could arrange a certain number of balls, say 
four ; one or two dinners — you wouldn’t care much about dinners, 
though, I dare say ; a few good “ at homes ” ; a Saturday or so at 
Hurlingham — possibly Ascot ; but, of course, you know every- 
thing would depend upon yourself.’ 

c I could hardly expect you to make me enjoy myself, Lady 
Bandobust,’ I said. c That altogether depends upon one’s 
own capacity for pleasure, as you say.’ 

6 Oh, altogether ! ’ she returned. ‘ Well, we might say six 
balls — thoroughly good ones ’ — and Lady Bandobust looked at 
me for a longer time together than she had yet — c and possibly 
the Royal Inclosure at Ascot. I say “ possibly ” because it is 
very difficult to get. And a house-party to finish up with, which 
really ought to be extra, as it doesn’t properly belong to a 
London season; but if I can at all see my way to it,’ Lady 
Bandobust went on, c I’ll put it into the three hundred. There 
are the Allspices, who have just bought Lord Frereton’s place 
in Wilts — I could take anybody there ! ’ 

1 Your friends must be very obliging, Lady Bandobust,’ 
said I. 

c The Private View is over,’ said Lady Bandobust ; ‘ but 
there is the Academy Soiree in June, and the Royal Colonial 
Institute, and a few things like that.’ 

‘ It sounds charming,’ I remarked. 

‘ We might do something about the Four-in-hand,’ Lady 
Bandobust continued, with some impatience. 

‘ Yes ? ’ I said. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


21 7 


There was a pause, in which I cast about me for some way 
of escape. I felt that my interest in Lady Bandobust was 
exhausted, and that I could not pretend to entertain her scheme 
any longer with self-respect. Besides, by this time I cordially 
hated her. But I could think of no formula to retreat under, 
and resigned myself to sit there helplessly, and defend myself as 
best I could, until I was dismissed. 

Lady Bandobust produced her last card. 4 The Duchess of 
Dudlington gives a fete on the twelfth/ she said, throwing it, as 
it were, upon the table. 4 1 should probably be able to take you 
there/ 

4 The Duchess of Dudlington ? ’ said I, in pure stupidity. 

4 Yes. And she is rather partial to Americans, for some 
extraordinary reason or another.’ The conversation flagged 
again. 

4 Presentation — if that is what you are thinking of — would 
be extra, Miss Wick,’ Lady Bandobust stated, firmly. 

4 Oh * — how much extra, Lady Bandobust ? ’ 

My prospective patroness did not hesitate a minute. 4 Fifty 
pounds,’ she said, and looked at me inquiringly. 

4 1 — I don’t think I was thinking of it, Lady Bandobust,’ 
I said. I felt mean, as we say in America. 

4 You were not! Well,’ said she, judicially, 4 1 don’t know 
that I would advise the outlay. It is a satisfactory thing to 
have done, of course, but not nearly so essential as it used to be 
— nothing like. You can get on without it. And, as you say, 
fifty pounds is fifty pounds.’ 

I knew I hadn’t said that, but found it impossible to assert 
the fact. 

4 Miss Boningsbill, whom I took out last season, I did pre- 
sent/ Lady Bandobust continued ; 4 but she went in for every- 


2l8 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


thing — perhaps more extensively than you would be disposed to 
do. It might facilitate matters — give you an idea, perhaps — if 
I were to tell you my arrangements with Miss BoningsbilL , 

4 I should like to hear them,’ I said. 

4 She did not live with me — of course, chaperonage does not 
imply residence, you understand that. When she went out with 
me she called for me in her brougham. She had a brougham 
by the month, and a landau for the park. I should distinctly 
advise you to do the same. I would, in fact, make the arrange- 
ment for you. I know a very reliable man.’ Lady Bandobust 
paused for my thanks. 

‘Generally speaking, Miss Boningsbill and I went out to- 
gether; but when I found this particularly inconvenient, she 
took one carriage and I the other, though she always had her 
choice. I stipulated only to take her to the park twice a 
week, but if nothing interfered I went oftener. Occasionally I 
took her to the play — that bores me, though. I hope you are 
not particularly fond of the theatre. And then she usually found 
it less expensive to get a box, as there were generally a few other 
people who could be asked with advantage — friends of my own.’ 

4 She had a box at Ascot, too, of course,’ Lady Bandobust 
went on, looking down her nose at a fly in the corner of the 
window-pane ; 4 but that is a matter of detail.’ 

4 Of course,’ I said, because I could think of nothing else 
to say. 

4 I gave her a ball,’ Lady Bandobust continued ; 4 that is to 
say, cards were sent out in my name. That was rather bungled, 
though — so many friends of mine begged for invitations for 
friends of theirs that I didn’t know half the people. And Miss 
Boningsbill, of course, knew nobody. Miss Boningsbill was dis- 
satisfied about the cost, too. I was foolish enough to forget to 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


219 


tell lier beforehand. Everything came from my own particular 
tradespeople, and, naturally, nothing was cheap. I never niggle/ 
said Lady Bandobust, turning her two little indifferent black 
eyes full upon me. 

‘ Miss Boningsbill insisted on having her name on the cards 
as well/ she said : ‘ “ Lady Bandobust and Miss Boningsbill/’ 
you understand. That I should not advise — very bad form, I 
call it.’ 

‘ She was married in October/ Lady Bandobust continued, 
casually. The second son of Sir Banbury Slatte — the eldest 
had gone abroad for his health. I knew the Banbury Slattes 
extremely well — excellent family.’ 

‘ Miss Boningsbill,’ Lady Bandobust went on, absently, ‘ had 
nothing like your figure.’ 

‘ Was she an American ? ’ I asked. 

‘No — Manchester,’ answered Lady Bandobust, laconically. 

‘ Cotton-spinners.’ 

‘ My dressmaker tells me she finds a marked difference 
between English and American figures,’ I remarked ; ‘ but I am 
afraid it is not to our advantage. We are not nearly so fine as 
you are.’ 

‘Ah!’ said Lady Bandobust. ‘Who is your dressmaker? 
she asked with interest. 

‘ I spoke of the firm whose place of business, though not 
mentioned in any guide-book, I had found to repay many visits. 

‘ Oh, those people ! ’ said Lady Bandobust. ‘ Dear, I call 
them. Smart enough for evening frocks, but certainly not to 
be depended upon for anything else. I should strongly advise 
you to try Miss Pafty, in Regent Street, and say I sent you. 
And for millinery, do let me recommend Madame Marie. I 
would give you a note to her. An excessively clever woman — 


220 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


personal friend of my own. A husband and two sons to support, 
so she makes bonnets. I believe the Princess goes to her 
regularly. And you pay very little more than you do any- 
where else. And now, with regard to our little scheme, what do 
you think, Miss Wick ? 5 

4 Really, Lady Bandobust,’ said I, 4 1 am afraid I must think 
about it.’ A decided negative was an utter impossibility at the 
time. 

4 Ah ! 9 said Lady Bandobust, 4 perhaps you think my terms 
a little high — -just a trifle more than you expected, perhaps. 
Well, suppose we say two hundred and fifty ? 9 

4 1 had no expectations whatever about it, Lady Bandobust,’ 
I said ; 4 1 knew nothing of it up to about an hour ago.’ 

4 Two hundred,’ said Lady Bandobust. 

4 1 am afraid I have no idea of the value of — of such things, 
Lady Bandobust,’ I faltered. 

4 1 can bring it as low as one hundred and fifty,’ she 
returned, 4 but it would not be quite the same, Miss Wick — you 
could not expect that.’ 

The rest of the conversation, which I find rather painful to 
call to memory, may perhaps be imagined from the fact that 
Lady Bandobust finally brought her offer down to seventy-five 
pounds, at which point I escaped, taking her address, promising 
to write her my decision in the course of a day or two, and feel- 
ing more uncomfortably contemptible than ever before in my 
life. We happened to be making visits in Park Lane next day, 
and as Lady Bandobust lived near there, I took the note myself, 
thinking it would be more polite. And I found the locality, in 
spite of its vicinity to Park Lane, quite extraordinary for Lady 
Bandobust to have apartments in. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


221 


I met Lady Bandobust once again. It was at an ‘ at home ’ 
given by Lord and Lady Mafferton, where everybody was asked 
c to meet ’ a certain distinguished traveller. Oddly enough, I 
was introduced to her, and we had quite a long chat. But I 
noticed that she had not caught my name as my hostess pro- 
nounced it — she called me ‘ Miss Winter ’ during the whole of 
our conversation, and seemed to have forgotten that we had 
ever seen each other before ; which was disagreeable of her, in 
my opinion. 


222 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


XXI 

f WENT to Ascot with the Bangley Coffins — Mr., Mrs., and the 
-L two Misses Bangley Coffin. I didn’t know the Bangley 
Coffins very well, but they were kind enough to ask Lady Tor- 
quilin if I might go with them, and Lady Torquilin con- 
sented with alacrity. 4 You couldn't go away from England 
without seeing Ascot,’ said she. 4 It would be a sin ! It’s far 
too much riot for me ; besides, I can’t bear to see the wretched 
horses. If they would only learn to race without beating the 
poor beasties ! To say nothing of the expense, which I call 
enormous. So by all means go with the Bangley Coffins, child 
— they’re lively people — I daresay you’ll enjoy yourself.’ 

Lady Torquilin was surprised and disappointed, however, 
when she learned that the party would go by train. 4 1 wonder 
at them,’ she said, referring to the Bangley Coffins ; 4 they know 
such a lot of people. I would have said they were morally cer- 
tain to be on somebody’s drag. Shall you care to go by train ? ’ 
Whereupon I promptly assured Lady Torquilin that I was only 
too happy to go any way. 

So we started, the morning of the Gold Cup day, I and the 
Bangley Coffins. I may as well describe the Bangley Coffins, in 
the hope that they may help to explain my experiences at Ascot. 
I have to think of Mrs. Bangley Coffin very often myself, when 
I try to look back intelligently upon our proceedings. 

Mrs. Bangley Coffin was tall, with a beautiful figure and pale 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


223 


gold hair. The Misses Bangley Coffin were also, tall, with 
prospectively beautiful figures and pale gold hair. I never saw 
such a resemblance between mother and daughters as there was 
between the Misses Bangley Coffin and their mamma. They sat 
up in the same way, their shoulders had the same slope, their 
elbows the same angle. The same lines developed on the 
countenance of Mrs. Bangley Coffin were undeveloped on the 
countenances of the Misses Bangley Coffin. Except in some 
slight matter of nose or eyes, Mr. Bangley Coffin hardly suggested 
himself in either of the young ladies. When they spoke, it was 
in their mother’s voice and in their mother’s manner — a manner 
that impressed you for the moment as being the only one in the 
world. Both they and their mamma had on dresses which it 
was perfectly evident they had never worn before, and of which 
they demanded my opinion with a frankness that surprised me. 
4 What do you think,’ said they, 4 of our Ascot frocks ? ’ I 
admired them very much; they represented, amongst them, 
nearly all the fashionable novelties, and yet they had a sort of 
conventional originality, if I may say such a thing, which was 
extremely striking. They seemed satisfied with my applause, but 
promptly fell upon me for not meriting applause myself. 4 We 
saw you,’ they said unitedly, 4 in that frock last Sunday in the 
park ! ’ — and there was a distinct reproach in the way they said 
it. 4 It’s quite charming ! ’ they assured me — and it was — 4 but 
it’s not as if you hadn’t quantities of them ! Do you mean to say 
Lady Torquilin didn’t tell you you ought to have a special frock 
for Ascot ? ’ 4 She said I should do very well in this,’ I declared, 

4 and that it would be a sin to buy another ; I had much better 
give the money to Dr. Barnardo ! ’ Whereat Mrs. Bangley 
Coffin and the two Misses Bangley Coffin looked at one another 
and remarked, 4 How like Lady Torquilin 1 9 


224 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


4 1 didn’t give it to Dr. Barnardo,’ I continued — to which 
Mrs. Bangley Coffin rejoined, in parenthesis, 4 1 should hope 
not ’ — 4 but I’m glad Lady Torquilin did not advise me to get 
an Ascot frock, though yours are very pretty. I feel that I 
couldn’t have sustained one — I haven’t the personality ! ’ And 
indeed this was quite true. It occurred to me often again 
through the day ; I could not have gone about inside an Ascot 
frock without feeling to some extent the helpless and meaning- 
less victim of it. The Bangley Coffin girls thought this supreme 
nonsense, and declared that I could carry anything off, and Mrs. 

Bangley Coffin said, 


with pretended se- 
verity, that it was 
not a question of 
feeling but of look- 
ing ; but they united 
in consoling me so 
successfully that I 
at last believed my- 
, self dressed to per- 
fection for Ascot — 
if I had only worn 
something else to 
the park the Sun- 
day before ! 

The husband 
and father of the 
Bangley Coffins was 
a short, square- 
shouldered gentleman with bushy eyebrows, a large mous- 
tache, plaid trousers, and a grey tail-coat that was a very 



MR. BANGLEY COFFIN. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


225 


tight fit round the waist. He had an expression of deep 
sagacity, and he took from an inner pocket, and fondled now 
and then, a case containing six very large brown cigars. His 
look of peculiar anticipative intelligence, combined with the 
cigars, gave me the idea that we should not be overburdened 
with Mr. Bangley Coffin’s society during the day — which proved 
to be a correct one. 

It did not seem to me, in spite of what Lady Torquilin had 
said, that it was at all unpopular to go to Ascot by rail. Trains 
were leaving the station every four or five minutes, all full of 
people who preferred that way of going ; and our own car, 
which was what, I believe, you call a ‘ saloon carriage,’ had 
hardly an empty seat. They looked nice respectable people, 
too, nearly all in Ascot frocks, though not perhaps particularly 
interesting. What surprised me in connection with the ride 
was the length of it ; it was not a ride, as I had somehow 
expected, of twenty minutes or half an hour from London, but 
a journey of, I forget how many, interminable hours. And what 
surprised me in connection with the people was their endurance 
of it. They did not fuss, or grow impatient, or consult their 
watches as the time dragged by ; they sat up, calm and placid 
and patient, and only looked occasionally, for refreshment, at 
their Ascot frocks. They seemed content to take an enormous 
amount of trouble for the amusement which might be supposed 
to be tickling their fancy at the other end of the trip— if there 
was any other end — to take it unshrinkingly and seriously. 
It gave me an idea of how difficult it is to be amused in England 
— unless you are a foreigner. Ascot to them was no light 
matter, and to me it was such a very light matter. I tried to 
imagine any fifty Americans of my acquaintance dressing up in 
their best clothes, and spending six or seven hon^s of a day 


226 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


in protracted railway journeys, for the sake of a little fun in 
between ; and I failed. It’s as much as we would do to inaugu- 
rate a president, or bury a general who saved the Union. 
We would consider the terms high. But, of course, it is impos- 
sible for me to say how we might behave if we had Distinguished 
Occasions, with Royal Inclosures inside them. 

We started with a sense of disappointment, which seemed 
to come in through the windows and envelop the Bangley 
Coffins, because c some people ’ they had expected failed to 
appear upon the platform. Mr. Bangley Coffin looked par- 
ticularly depressed. c Don’t see how the deuce we’re going to 
arrange ! ’ he said to Mrs. Bangley Coffin, with unction. c Oh, 
there’s sure to be somebody, Joey, love! ’ she returned, cheer- 
fully ; ‘ and in any case, you see, we have you.’ To which Mr. 
Bangley Coffin gave a dubious and indistinct assent. I did 
not get on well with Mr. Bangley Coffin. He seemed to mean 
w r ell, but he had a great many phrases which I did not in the 
least understand, and to which he invariably added, c As you 
say in America.’ It was never by any chance a thing we did 
say in America, but nothing could make Mr. Bangley Coffin 
believe that. I can’t say that we had much general conversa- 
tion either, but in what there was I noticed great good-feeling 
between the Misses Bangley Coffins and their mamma. 

‘ The bonnet of that Israelite at the other end of the 
carriage would suit you to a “T”, murnmie,’ one of them re- 
marked in joke. The bonnet was a terrible affair, in four shades 
of heliotrope. 

6 Yes,’ replied Mrs. Bangley Coffin, smiling quite good- 
naturedly ; 6 that’s about my form.’ 

The Bangley Coffins were all form. Form, for them, regu- 
lated . existence. It was the all-compelling law of the spheres, 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


227 


the test of all human action and desire. ‘ Good form ’ was the 
ultimate expression of their respect, ‘ bad form ’ their final decla- 
ration of contempt. Perhaps I should misjudge the Bangley 
Coffins if I said form was their conscience, and I don’t want to mis- 
judge them — they were very pleasant to me. But I don’t think 
they would have cared to risk their eternal salvation upon any 
religious tenets that were not entirely comme ilfaut — I mean 
the ladies Bangley Coffin. The head of their house twisted his 
moustache and seemed more or less indifferent. 

There is no doubt that, in the end, we did get to Ascot, and 
left our dust-cloaks in charge of that obliging middle-aged person 
who is to be found in every ladies’ waiting-room in England. 
There was some discussion as to whether we should or should 
not leave our dust-cloaks with her — they were obviously unbe- 
coming, but, obviously also, it might rain. However, in the 
end we did. Mrs. Bangley Coffin thought we might trust to 
Providence, and Providence proved itself worthy of Mrs. Bangley 
Coffin’s confidence. 

Again, as we joined the crowd that surged out of the station, 
I noticed that look of anxious expectancy on the face of the 
Bangley Coffin family. It was keener than before, and all- 
embracing. I even fancied I noticed an understood division of 
survey — an arrangement by which Mr. Bangley Coffin looked 
to the north, and Mrs. Bangley Coffin to the south, one young 
lady to the east, and the other to the west. 4 We really must 
keep an eye open,’ said Mr. Bangley Coffin. ‘ Coming this way ? 
Oh! Hullo, Pipply, old man! Hare you?’ with extreme cor- 
diality, to a short, very stout gentleman in grey, with a pink face 
and a hooked nose, and a white moustache, and a blue-spotted 
necktie — a New Yorker, I was sure, before he spoke. Pipply 
responded with very moderate transports, and shook hands 


228 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


hastily with the ladies attached to Mr. Bangley Coffin. ‘ Mrs. 
Pipply’s with you, I see,’ continued Mr. Bangley Coffin, joyously, 
c and that charming sister of hers ! Kitty, we must see whether 
they have forgotten us, mustn’t we ? ’ — and he and Kitty advanced 
upon two very much-accented fair ladies in frilled muslins and 
large flowery hats. They were dressed as fashionably as Bond 
Street could dress them, and they were as plump and pretty as 
could be, but perhaps just a little too big and blue of eye and 
pink-and-white of complexion quite to satisfy the Bangley Coffin 
idea of c form.’ It would be difficult to account otherwise for 
what they did. For the Pipplys, they were very amiable, but, 
as you might say, at bay ; and after reproaching the Bangley 
Coffins with having never, never, never come to see them, after 
promising solemnly to do so at Cannes, where they had all had 
such a good time together, Mrs. Pipply proceeded to say that 
she didn’t know whether we were driving — if not, they had room 
for one , and we might arrange to meet again somewhere. 4 How 
good of you ! ’ said Mrs. Bangley Coffin, and looked at her two 
daughters. 4 We’re really obliged to you,’ said Mr. Bangley 
Coffin, and bent a gaze of strong compulsion upon his wife. 
The young ladies smiled, hesitated, and looked at me. I couldn’t 
go. I had not even been introduced. There was an awkward 
pause — the kind of pause you never get out of England — and 
as the Pipplys, rather huffed and rather in a hurry, were moving 
off, Mrs. Bangley Coffin covered their retreat, as it were, with 
the unblushing statement that she was afraid we must try to 
keep our little party together. And we lost the Pipplys ; where- 
upon Mr. Bangley Coffin regarded his family with the air of a 
disciplinarian. 4 They’re certain to be on a drag,’ said he, 4 and 
no end of Pipply’s clubs have tents. Why didn’t one of you go ? 
Not classy enough, eh ? ’ Whereupon they all with one accord 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


229 


began to make excuse, after which we walked on in a troubled 
silence. It was very dusty and very steep, that narrow hill that 
so many people find fortune at the top or ruin at the bottom of, 
leading to the heart of Ascot. But the day had brightened, and 
the people — all going uphill — were disposed to be merry, and 
two one-armed sailors sat in the sun by the side of the road 
singing ballads and shouting, ‘ Good luck to you, ladies ! ’ so 
that my spirits gradually rose. I didn’t see how I could help 
enjoying myself. 

6 1 always think it’s such a frightful charge for admission to 
the Grand Stand,’ said Mrs. Bangley Coffin, as we walked up 
the arboreal approach to it. ‘ A sovereign ! Of course, they 
have to do it, you know, to keep the mob out ; but really, when 
one thinks of it, it is too much ! ’ 

I thought this a real kindness of Mrs. Bangley Coffin, because 
if I had not known it was so much 1 might have let Mr. Bangley 
Coffin pay for my ticket too. 

It was about this time that Mr. Bangley Coffin disappeared. 
He launched us, as it were, upon the crowded terrace in front of 
the Grand Stand, where at every turn the Misses Bangley Coffin 
expected to see a man they knew. He remained semi-detached 
and clinging for about a quarter of an hour, coming up with an 
agreeable criticism upon a particular costume, darting off again 
to talk to a large, calm man with an expansive checked shirt-front 
and a silk hat well on the back of his head, who carried a note- 
book. Then, once, Mrs. Bangley Coffin addressed him, think- 
ing him behind her. ‘ Joey, love ! ’ said she. c Joey , love ! ’ said 
she again, turning her head. But Joey was utterly and wholly 
gone. I believe he explained afterwards that he had lost us. 

‘ There!’ said Mrs. Bangley Coffin, with incisiveness; ‘now 
we must see somebody we know ! Pet, isn’t that Sir Melville 


230 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


Cartus ? ’ It was, and Sir Melville came up in response to Mrs. 
Bangley Coffin’s eyeglass and bow and smile, and made himself 
extremely agreeable for about four minutes and a-quarter. Then 
he also took off his hat with much charm of manner and went 
away. So did a nervous little Mr. Trifugis, who joined us for a 
short time. He said he was on the Fitzwalters’s drag, and it was 
so uncommon full he had apprehensions about getting back. 
Whose drag were we on ? and didn’t we think it was drawing 
near the halcyon hour of luncheon ? 

4 Nobody’s,’ said Mrs. Bangley Coffin, pointedly. ‘ We came 
by train this year. Joey is suffering from a fit of economy — the 
result of Surefoot’s behaviour at the Derby. It is about time 
for luncheon.’ 

Whereat Mr. Trifugis dropped his eyeglass and looked 
absently over his left shoulder, blushing hard. Then he screwed 
the eyeglass in again very tight, looked at us all with amiable 
indefiniteness, took off his hat, and departed. 4 Little beast ! 5 
said Mrs. Bangley Coffin, candidly ; 4 there’s not the slightest 
reason why he couldn’t have given us all luncheon at the Lyric 
enclosure.’ 

Then I began to see why it was so necessary that we should 
meet somebody we knew — it meant sustenance. It was, as Mr. 
Trifugis had said, quite time for sustenance, and neither the 
Bangley Coffin family nor I had had any since breakfast, and if 
it had not been for that consideration, which was naturally a 
serious one, I, for my part, would have been delighted just to 
go round, as we seemed likely to do, by ourselves. There was 
no band, as there never is in England — I suppose because Edward 
the- Confessor or somebody didn’t like bands ; but there was 
everything else that goes to give an occasion brilliance and 
Variety — a mingling crowd of people with conventionally 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


231 


picturesque clothes and interesting manners, sunlight, flags, a 
race-course, open boxes, an obvious thrill of excitement, a great 
many novel noises. Besides, it was Ascot, and its interest was 
intrinsic. 

4 I think we must try the drags/ said Mrs. Bangley Coffin — 
and we defiled out into the crowd beyond the gates, whose dress 
is not original, that surges unremuneratively between the people 
who pay on the coaches and the people who pay on the Lawn. 
It was more amusing outside, though less exclusive — livelier, 
noisier. Men were hanging thick against the palings of the 
Lawn, with expressions of deep sagacity and coloured shirts, 
calling uninterruptedly, 4 Two to one bar one ! 9 4 Two to one 

Orveito ! ’ and very well dressed young gentlemen occasionally 
came up and entered into respectful conference with them. We 
were jostled a good deal in the elbowing multitude, and it seemed 
to me to be always, as if in irony, by a man who sold ginger- 
bread or boiled lobsters. We made our way through it, how- 
ever, and walked slowly in the very shadow of the drags, on top 
of which people with no better appetites than we had were 
ostentatiously feasting. We were all to look out for the Pibbly 
hats, and we did — in vain. c I can’t imagine/ said Mrs. Bangley 
Coffin to each of her daughters in turn, 4 why you didn’t go 
with them !’ We saw Mr. Trifugis, and noted bitterly that he 
had not been at all too late. An actress on the Lyric drag gave 
us a very frank and full-flavoured criticism of our dresses, but it 
was unsatisfying, except to the sensibilities. 

4 Shall we try behind, mamma ? 9 asked one of the young 
ladies. 6 Who could possibly see us behind ? 9 exclaimed Mrs. 
Bangley Coffin, who was getting cross. Nevertheless, we did try 
behind, and somebody did see us — several very intelligent footmen. 

4 Is there no place/ I inquired for the fourth or fifth time, 

aa 


232 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


‘ where we could buy a little light refreshment ? ’ Mrs. Bangley 
Coffin didn't say there was not, but seemed to think it so im- 



probable that it was hardly worth our while to look. 4 Nobody 
lunches at Ascot, Miss Wick,’ she said at last, with a little 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


2 33 


asperity, c except on the drags or at the club enclosures. It’s — 
it's impossible.’ 



* AN ACTRESS ON THE L.YRIC DRAG GAVE US A VERY FRANK AND FULL-FLAVOURED 
CRITICISM OF OUR DRESSES ’ 


‘Well,’ I said, ‘ I think it’s very unenterprising not to make 
provision for such a large number of people. If this were in 


234 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


America ’ But just then we came face to face with Colonel and 

Mrs. B. J. Silverthorn, of St. Paul’s, Minnesota. To say that 
I was glad to see these old friends in this particular emergency 
is to say very little. I knew the Colonel’s theory of living, and 
I was quite sure that starving for six hours on an English race- 
course had no place in it. I knew his generous heart, too, and 
was confident that any daughter of poppa’s might rely upon it 
to the utmost. So, after introducing Mrs. and the Misses 
Bangley Coffin, I proceeded to explain our unfortunate situation. 
c Can you tell us,’ I begged, ‘ where we can get something to 
eat ?’ 

The Colonel did not hesitate a moment. ‘ Come right along 
with me,’ he said. ‘ It isn’t just the Fifth Avenue Hotel, but 
it’ll do if you’re hungry, and I guess you are ! ’ And we all 
followed him to the rather abridged seclusion of the restaurant 
behind the Grand Stand. The Colonel did it all very hand- 
somely — ordered champagne, and more dishes than twice as many 
people could have disposed of ; but the cloud that rested upon 
the brows of Mrs. and the Misses Bangley Coffin did not disperse 
with the comforting influence of food, and they kept a nervous 
eye upon the comers and goers. I suppose they had waited too 
long for their meal really to enjoy it. 

We parted from Colonel and Mrs. Silverthorn almost im- 
mediately afterwards — they said they wanted to go and have 
another good look at the Royalties and Dukes in their own yard, 
and Mrs. Bangley Coffin thought it was really our duty to stay 
where Mr. Bangley Coffin might find us. So we went and sat 
in a row and saw the Gold Cup won, and shortly after took an 
early train for London, Mrs. Bangley Coffin declaring that she 
had no heart for another sovereign for the Paddock. On the 
way home she said she was sorry I had had such a dull day, and 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


235 


that it was her first and last attempt to c screw ’ Ascot. But I 
had not had at all a dull day — it had been immensely interest- 
ing, to say nothing of the pleasure of meeting Colonel and Mrs. 
Silverthorn. I quite agreed with Mrs. Bangley Coffin, however, 
that it is better to make liberal arrangements for Ascot when 
you go as an Ascot person. 


236 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


xxri 

* 1 DON’T know what we were about to let Miss Wick miss 
-1 the Boats/ said Mr. Mafferton one day, over his after- 
noon-tea in Lady Torquilin’s flat. I looked at Lady Torquilin, 
and said I thought Mr. Mafferton must be mistaken ; I had 
never missed a boat in my life, and, besides, we hadn’t been 
going anywhere by boat lately. The reason we had put off 
our trip to Richmond five times was invariably because of 
the weather. Peter Corke happened to be there that afternoon, 
too, though she didn’t make much of a visit. Miss Corke 
never did stay very long when Mr. Mafferton was there — he 
was a person she couldn’t bear. She never called him anything 
but 1 That.’ She declared you could see hundreds of him 
any afternoon in Piccadilly, all with the same hat and collar 
and expression and carnation in their button-holes. She failed 
to see why I should waste any portion of my valuable time in 
observing Mr. Mafferton, when I had still to see ‘ Dolly’s Chop 
House,’ and Guy the King-maker’s tablet in Warwick Lane, 
and the Boy in Panyer Alley, and was so far unimproved by 
anything whatever relating to Oliver Goldsmith or Samuel 
Johnson. She could not understand that a profoundly unin- 
teresting person might interest you precisely on that account. 
But, c Oh you aborigine ! ’ she began about the Boats, and I 
presently understood another of those English descriptive terms 
by which you mean something that you do not say. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


2 37 


The discussion ended, very happily for me, in an arrangement 
suggested jointly by Miss Corke and Mr. Mafferton. Lady 
Torquilin and I should go to Oxford to see c the Eights.’ Mr. 
Mafferton had a nephew at Pembroke, and no doubt the young 
cub would be delighted to look after us. Miss Oorke’s younger 
brother was at Exeter, and she would write to the dear boy at 
once that he must be nice to us. Peter was very sorry she 
couldn’t come herself — nothing would have given her greater 
pleasure, she said, than to show me all I didn’t know in the 
Bodleian. 

I suppose we have rather a large, exaggerated idea of 
Oxford in America, thinking about it, as it were, externally. 
As a name it is so constantly before us, and the terms of 
respect in which the English despatches speak of it are so 
marked, that its importance in our eyes has become extremely 
great. We think it a city, of course — no place could grow to 
such fame without being a city — and with us the importance of 
a city naturally invests itself in large blocks of fine buildings 
chiefly devoted to business, in a widely-extended and highly- 
perfected telephone system, and in avenues of Queen Anne 
residences with the latest modern conveniences. And Lady 
Torquilin, on the way, certainly talked a great deal about ‘ the 
High ’ — which she explained to be Oxford’s principal thorough- 
fare — and the purchases she had at oue time or another made on 
it, comparing Oxford with London prices. So that I had quite 
an extensive State Street or Wabash Avenue idea of c the High.’ 
Both our young gentlemen friends were fractional parts of the 
Eights, and were therefore unable to meet us. It had been 
arranged that we should lunch with one at two, and take tea 
with the other at five, but Lady Torquilin declared herself in 
urgent need of something sustaining as soon as we arrived, and 


238 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


4 Shall we go to the Clarendon to get it ? ’ said she, 4 or to 
Boffin’s?’ 

4 What is Boffin’s ? ’ I inquired. It is not safe, in English 
localisms, to assume that you know anything. 

4 Boffin’s is a pastry-cook’s,’ Lady Torquilin informed me, and 
I immediately elected for Boffin’s. It was something idyllic, in 
these commonplace days, when Dickens has been so long dead, 
that Boffin should be a pastry-cook, and that a pastry-cook 
should be Boffin. Perhaps it struck me especially, because in 
America he would have been a 4 confectioner,’ with some 
aesthetic change in the spelling of the original Boffin that I am 
convinced could not be half so good for business. And we 
walked up a long, narrow, quiet street, bent like an elbow, lined 
with low-roofed little shops devoted chiefly, as I remember them, 
to the sale of tennis-racquets, old prints, sausages, and gentle- 
men’s neckties, full of quaint gables, and here and there lapsing 
into a row of elderly stone houses that had all gone to sleep 
together by the pavement, leaving their worldly business to the 
care of the brass-plates on their doors. Such a curious old street 
we went up to Boffin’s, so peaceful, nothing in it but inoffensive 
boys pushing handcarts, and amiable gentlemen advanced in 
years with spectacles — certainly more of these than I ever saw 
together in any other place — never drowsing far from the shadow 
of some serious grey pile, ivy-bearded and intent, like a vener- 
able scholar — oh, a very curious old street ! 

4 Shall we get,’ said I to Lady Torquilin , 4 any glimpse of the 
High before we reach Boffin’s ? ’ Dear Lady Torquilin looked 
at me sternly, as if to discover some latent insincerity. 4 None 
of your impertinence, miss,’ said she ; 4 this is the High ! ’ 

I was more charmed and delighted than I can express, and 
as Lady Torquilin fortunately remembered several things we 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


239 


orgently needed, and could buy to much better advantage in 
Oxford than in ‘Town/ I had the great pleasure of finding out 
what it was like to shop in the High, and the other queer little 
streets which are permitted to run — no, to creep — about the feet 
of the great wise old colleges that take such kindly notice of 
them. It was very nice, to my mind, that huddling together of 
pastry-cooks and gargoyles, of chapels and old china shops, of 
battered mediaeval saints and those little modern errand-boys 
with their handcarts — of old times and new, preponderating^ 
old and respectfully new. Much more democratic, too, than a 
seat of learning would be in America, where almost every 
college of reputation is isolated in the sea of c grounds/ and the 
only sound that falls upon the academic ear is the clatter of the 
lawn-mower or the hissing of the garden-hose. Nor shall I soon 
forget the emotions with which I made a perfectly inoffensive 
purchase in a small establishment of wide reputation for petty 
wares, called, apparently from time immemorial, * The Civet 
Cat ’ — not reproachfully, nor in a spirit of derision, but bearing 
the name with dignity in painted letters. 

People who know their way about Oxford will understand 
how we found ours to Pembroke from the High. I find that I 
have forgotten. We stood at so many corners to look, and 
Lady Torquilin bade me hurry on so often, that the streets and 
the colleges, and the towers and the gardens, are all lost to me in 
a crowded memory that diverges with the vagueness of enchant- 
ment from Carfax and Boffin’s. But at last we walked out of 
the relative bustle of the highways and byways into the quietest 
place I ever saw or felt, except a graveyard in the Strand — a 
green square hedged in with buildings of great dignity and 
solidity, and very serious mind. I felt, as we walked around it 
to ask a respectable-looking man waiting about on the other 


240 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 

side where Mr. Sanders Horton’s rooms were, as if I were in 
church. 

4 Yes’m ! This way’m, if you please,’ said the respectable- 



‘ I FELT AS IF I WERE IN CHURCH ’ 


looking man. 4 Mr. ’Orton’s rooms is on the first floor li’up, 
’m’ ; and as Mr. Horton himself had come out on the landing to 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


241 


receive us, and was presently very prettily shaking hands with 
us, we had no further difficulty. Our host had not considered 
himself equal to lunching two strange ladies unassisted, however, 
and as he looked a barely possible nineteen, this was not 
remarkable, Lady Torquilin thought afterwards. He immedi- 
ately introduced his friend, Lord Symonds, who seemed, if any- 
thing, less mature, but whose manners were quite as nice. 
Then we all sat down in Mr. Sanders Horton’s pretty little 
room, and watched the final evolution of luncheon on the table, 
and talked about the view. 4 You have a lovely lawn,’ said I 
to Mr. Horton, who responded that it wasn’t a bad quad ; and 
when I asked if the respectable-looking man downstairs was the 
caretaker of the college : 4 Oh, nothing so swagger ! ’ said Lord 
Symonds ; 4 probably a scout ! * And the presence of a quad 
and a scout did more than all the guide-books I read up 
afterwards to give me a realising sense of being in an English 
university centre. We looked at Mr. Horton’s pictures, too, and 
examined, complimentarily, all his decorative effects of wood- 
carving and old china, doing our duty, as is required of ladies 
visiting the menage of a young gentleman, with enthusiasm. I 
was a little disappointed, personally, in not finding the initials 
of Byron or somebody cut on Mr. Horton’s window-sill, and dis- 
tinctly shocked to hear that this part of Pembroke College had 
been built within the memory of living man, as Mr. Horton was 
reluctantly obliged to admit. He apologised for its extreme 
modernness on the ground of its comparative comfort, but 
seemed to feel it, in a subdued way, severely, as was eminently 
proper. Among the various photographs of boat-races upon 
the wall was one in which Mr. Horton pointed out 4 the 
Torpids,’ which I could not help considering and remarking 
upon as a curious name for a boating-crew. 4 Why are they 


242 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


called that ? ’ I asked ; c they seem to be going pretty 
fast.’ 

c Oh, rather ! ’ responded Mr. Horton. ‘ Upon my word, I 
don’t know. It does seem hard lines, doesn’t it ? Symonds, 
where did these fellows get their name ? ’ But Lord Symonds 
didn’t know exactly either — they’d always had it, he fancied ; 
and Lady Torquilin explained that c this young lady’ — meaning 
me — could never be satisfied with hearing that a thing was so 
because it was so — she must always know the why and where- 
fore of everything, even when there was neither why nor where- 
fore ; at which we all laughed and sat down to luncheon. But 
I privately made up my mind to ask an explanation of the Tor- 
pids from the first Oxford graduate with honours that I met, and 
I did. He didn’t know either. He was not a boating-man, 
however ; he had taken his honours in Classics. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


243 


XXIII 


HAD heard so much from 
English sources of the 
precocity and forwardness 
of very young people in 
America, that I was quite 
prepared to find a com- 
mend ably opposite state of 
things in England, and I 
must say that, generally 
speaking, I was not dis- 
appointed. The extent to 
which young ladies and 
gentlemen under twenty - 
two can sit up straight 
and refrain from conversa- 
tion here, impressed me as 
much as anything I have 
I have not observed any of this shyness in 
married ladies or older gentlemen ; and that struck me oddly, 
too, for in America it is only with advancing years that we 
become conscious of our manners. 

I have no doubt that, if the Eights had been in America — 
where they would probably be called the Octoplets — and Mr. 
Sanders Horton had been a Harvard Sophomore, and Lord 



seen in society. 


244 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


Symonds’s father had made his fortune out of a patent shoe- 
lace-tag, and we had all been enjoying ourselves over there, we 
might have noticed a difference both in the appearance and the 
behaviour of these young gentlemen. They would certainly 
have been older for their years, and more elaborately dressed. 
Their complexions would probably not have been so fresh, nor 
their shoulders so broad, and the pencilling on Mr. Horton’s 
upper lip, and the delicate, fair marking on Lord Symonds’s, 
would assuredly have deepened into a moustache. Their manners 
would not have been so negatively good as they were in Oxford, 
where they struck me as expressing an ideal, above all things, to 
avoid doing those things which they ought not to do. Their 
politeness would have been more effusive, and not the least bit 
nervous ; though I hope neither Mr. Horton nor Lord Symonds 
will mind my implying that in Oxford they were nervous. 
People can’t possibly help the way they have been brought up, 
and to me our host’s nervousness was interesting, like his 
English accent, and the scout and the quad. Personally, I 
liked the feeling of superinducing bash fulness in two nice boys 
like those — it was novel and amusing — though I have no doubt 
they were much more afraid of Lady Torquilin than of me. 
I never saw a boy, however, from twelve to twenty-three — which 
strikes me as the span of boyhood in England — that was not 
Lady Torquilin’s attached slave after twenty minutes’ conver- 
sation with her. She did not humour them, or flatter them, or 
talk to them upon their particular subjects; she was simply 
what they called 4 jolly’ to them, and their appreciation was 
always prompt and lively. Lady Torquilin got on splendidly 
with both Mr. Sanders Horton and Lord Symonds. The only 
reason why Mr. Horton’s lunch was not an unqualifiedly brilliant 
success was that, whenever she talked to one of our hosts, the 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


245 


other one was left for me to talk to, which was usually dis- 
tressing for both of us. 

It was an extremely nice lunch, served with anxious defer- 
ence by the respectable-looking little man who had come upstairs, 
and nervously commanded by Mr. Horton at one end with the 
cold joint, and Lord Symonds at the other with the fowl. It 
began, I remember, with bouillon. Lady Torquilin partook of 
bouillon , so did I ; but the respectable scout did not even offer 
it to the young gentlemen. I caught a rapid, inquiring glance 
from Lady Torquilin. Could it be that there was not bouillon 
enough ? The thought checked any utterance upon the subject, 
and we finished our soup with careful indifference, while Lord 
Symonds covered the awkwardness of the situation by explain- 
ing to me demonstratively the nature of a Bump. I did not 
understand Bumps then, nor did I succeed during the course of 
the afternoon in picking up enough information to write intelli- 
gently about them. But this was because Lord Symonds had 
no bouillon. Under the circumstances, it was impossible for me 
to put my mind to it. 

Presently Mr. Horton asked us if he might give us some 
salmon — not collectively, but individually and properly, Lady 
Torquillin first ; and we said he might. He did not help Lord 
Symonds, and relapsed himself, as it were, into an empty plate. 
It was Lady Torquilin’s business to inquire if the young gentle- 
men were not well, or if salmon did not agree with them, 
and not mine; but while I privately agitated this matter, I 
unobservantly helped myself to mayonnaise. ‘ I — I beg your 
pardon,’ said Mr. Sanders Horton, in a pink agony; ‘that’s 
cream ! ’ So it was, waiting in a beautiful old-fashioned silver 
pitcher the advent of those idylls that come after. It was a 
critical moment, for it instantly flashed upon me that the 


246 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


respectable scout had forgott< 
been the means of making 



‘ THE RESPECTABLE SCOUT.’ 


thing ? 5 she inquired, with 
prevarications. 


the mayonnaise , and that I had 
\ Sanders Horton very uncom- 
fortable indeed. Only one thing 
occurred to me to say, for which 
I hope 1 may be forgiven. 

‘ Yes,’ I returned, 1 we like it 
with fish in America.’ At 
which Mr. Horton looked in- 
terested and relieved. And I 
ate as much of the mixture as I 
could with a smile, though the 
salmon had undergone a vinegar 
treatment which made this diffi- 
cult. 4 It is in Boston, is it 
not,’ remarked Lord Symonds 
politely, ‘ that the people live 
almost entirely upon beans ? ’ 
And the conversation flowed 
quite generally until the advent 
of the fowl. It was a large, 
well- conditioned chicken, and 
when the young gentlemen, 
apparently by mutual consent, 
refrained from partaking of it, 
the situation had reached a 
degree of unreasonableness 
which was more than Lady 
Torquilin could endure. 

‘ Do you intend to eat no- 
3 air of one who will accept no 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


247 


‘ Oh, we’d like to, but we can’t,’ they replied, earnestly and 
simultaneously. 

‘ We’re still in training, you know,’ Lord Symonds went on. 
‘ Fellows have got to train pretty much on stodge.’ And at 
this juncture Mr. Horton solemnly cut two slices of the cold 
beef, and sent them to his friend, helping himself to the same 
quantity with mathematical exactness. Then, with plain bread, 
and gravity which might almost be called severe, they attacked it. 

Lady Torquilin and I looked at each other reproachfully. 
This privation struck us as needless and extreme, and it had the 
uncomfortable moral effect of turning our own repast into a 
Bacchanalian revel. We frowned, we protested, we besought. 
We suggested with insidious temptation that this was the last 
day of the races, and that nobody would know. We commended 
each particular dish in turn, in terms we thought most appetis- 
ing. It was very wrong, and it had the sting which drives 
wrong-doing most forcibly home to the conscience, of being 
entirely futile, besides engendering the severe glances of the 
respectable scout. The young gentlemen were as adamant, if 
adamant could blush. They would not be moved, and at every 
fresh appeal they concentrated their attention upon their cold 
beef in a manner which I thought most noble, if a trifle ferocious. 
At last they began to look a little stern and disapproving, and 
we stopped, conscious of having trenched disrespectfully upon 
an ideal of conduct. But over the final delicacy of Mr. Horton’s 
lunch, the first of the season, Lady Torquilin regarded them 
wistfully. c Not even gooseberry tart ? ’ said she. And I will 
not say that there was no regret in the courageous rejoinder : 

‘ Not even gooseberry tart.’ 

I am not pretending to write about the things that ought to 
have impressed me most, but the things that did impress me 
17 


248 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 

most, and these were, at Mr. Sanders Horton’s luncheon, the 
splendid old silver college goblets into which our host poured us 
lavish bumpers of claret-cup, the moral support of the respect- 
able scout, and the character and dignity an ideal of duty may 
possess, even in connection with cold beef. I came into severe 
contact with an idiom, too, which I shall always associate with 
that occasion. Lord Symonds did not belong to Pembroke 
College, and I asked him, after we had exchanged quite a good 
deal of polite conversation, which one he did belong to. 

< How lovely these old colleges are,’ I remarked, ‘ and so 
nice and impressive and time-stained. Which one do you 
attend, Lord Symonds?’ 

‘ Maudlin,’ said Lord Symonds, apparently taking no notice 
of my question, and objecting to the preceding sentiment. 

‘Do you think so?’ I said. I was not offended. I had 
made up my mind some time before never to be offended in 
England until I understood things. ‘ I’m very sorry, but they 
do strike an American that way, you know.’ 

Lord Symonds did not seem to grasp my meaning. ‘ It is 
jolly old,’ said he. ‘ Not so old as some of ’em. New, for 
instance. But I thought you asked my college. Maudlin, just 
this side of Maudlin bridge, you know.’ 

‘ Oh ! ’ I said. ‘ And will you be kind enough to spell your 
college, Lord Symonds ? I am but a simple American, over 
here partly for the purpose of improving my mind.’ 

‘Certainly. “M-a-g-d-a-l-e-n,”’ returned Lord Symonds, 
very good-naturedly. ‘ Now that you speak of it, it is rather a 
rum way of spelling it. Something like “ Cholmondeley.” Now, 
how would you spell “ Cholmondeley ? ” ’ 

I was glad to have his attention diverted from my mistake, 
but the reputation of ‘ Cholmondeley ’ is world-wide, and I 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


249 


spelled it triumphantly. I should like to confront an American 
spelling-match with c Magdalen/ though, and about eleven 
other valuable orthographical specimens that I am taking 
care of. 

In due course we all started for the river, finding our way 
through quads even greyer and greener and quieter than Exeter, 
and finally turning into a pretty, wide, tree-bordered highway, 
much too well trodden to be a popular Lovers’ Walk, but dustily 
pleasant and shaded withal. We were almost an hour too early 
for the races, as Mr. Horton and Lord Symonds wished to take 
us on the river before they were obliged to join their respective 
crews, and met hardly anybody except occasional strolling, loose- 
garmented undergraduates with very various ribbons on their 
round straw hats, which they took off with a kind of spasmodic 
gravity when they happened to know our friends. The tree- 
bordered walk ended more or less abruptly at a small stream, 
bordered on its hither side by a series of curious constructions 
reminding one of all sorts of things, from a Greek warship to a 
Methodist church in Dakota, and wonderfully painted. These, 
Mr. Horton explained, were the College barges, from which the 
race was viewed, and he led the way to the Exeter barge. 
There is a stairway to these barges, leading to the top, and Mr. 
Horton showed us up, to wait until he and Lord Symonds got 
out the punt. 

The word ‘ punting 9 was familiar to me, signifying an 
aquatic pursuit popular in England, but I had never even seen 
a punt, and was very curious about it. I cannot say, however, 
that the English punt, when our friends brought it round, 
struck me as a beautiful object. Doubtless it had points of 
excellence, even of grace, as compared with other punts — I do 
not wish to disparage it — but I suffered from the lack of a 


250 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


standard to admire it by. It seemed to me an uninteresting 
vessel, and I did not like the way it was cut off at the ends. 
The mode of propulsion, too, by which Mr. Horton and Lord 
Symonds got us around the river — poking a stick into the mud 
at the bottom and leaning on it — did not impress me as being 
dignified enough for anybody in Society. Lord Symonds asked 
me, as we sat in one end enjoying the sun — you get to like it in 
England, even on the back of your neck — what I thought of 
punting. I told him I thought it was immoderately safe. It 
was the most polite thing I could think of at the spur of the 
moment. I do not believe punting would ever become popular 
in America. We are a light-minded people ; we like an 
element of joyous risk ; we are not adapted to punt. 

The people were beginning to come down upon the barges 
when we returned from this excursion, and it was thought best 
that we should take our places. The stream was growing very 
full, not only of laborious punts containing three brightly-dressed 
ladies and one perspiring young man, but of all kinds of craft, 
some luxuriously overshadowed with flounced awnings, under 
which young gentlemen with cigarette-attachments reposed, 
protecting themselves further with Japanese paper umbrellas. 
The odd part of this was that both they and their umbrellas 
seemed to be taken by themselves and everybody else quite an 
serieux. This, again, would be different in America. 

Mr. Horton left us with Lord Symonds, who had not to 
row, he explained to us, until later in the day ; and presently 
we saw our host below, with the rest of his bare-legged, mus- 
cular crew, getting gingerly into the long, narrow outrigger 
lying alongside. They arranged themselves with great care 
and precision, and then held their oars, looking earnestly at a 
little man who sat up very straight in the stern — the cox. He 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


251 


was my first cox, for I had never seen a boat-race before, ex- 
cepting between champions, who do not row with coxes, and I 
was delighted to find how accurately he had been described in 
the articles we read about English boating — his size, his erect- 
ness and alertness, and autocratic dignity. At a word from 
the cox every man turned his head half-way round and back 
again ; then he said, in the sternest accents I had ever heard, 

£ Are — you — ready ? ’ and in an instant they were off. 

£ Where are they going ? ’ Lady Torquilin asked. 

£ Oh, for a preliminary spin,’ said Lord Symonds, £ and then 
for the starting-point/ 

£ And when do the barges start ? ’ I inquired, without 
having given the matter any kind of consideration. 

£ The barges ! ’ said Lord Symonds, mystified. £ Do you 
mean these ? They don’t start ; they stay here/ 

‘ But can we see the race from here ? 5 I asked. 

£ Beautifully ! They come past/ 

6 Do I understand, Lord Symonds, that the Oxford boat-race 
takes place out there ? 9 

£ Certainly,’ said he. £ Why not ? * 

£ Oh, no particular reason,’ I returned — £ if there is room.’ 

£ Bather ! ’ the young gentleman explained. £ This is the 
noble river Isis, Miss Wick.’ 

4 It may not be so big as the Mississippi, but it’s worthy of 
your respectful consideration, young lady,’ put in Lady Tor- 
quilin. Thus admonished, I endeavoured to give the noble 
river Isis my respectful consideration, but the barges occupied 
so much space in it that I was still unable to understand how 
a boat-race of any importance could come between us and the 
opposite bank without seriously inconveniencing somebody. 

It did, however, and such was the skill displayed by the 


252 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


coxes in charge that nobody was hurt. It came off amid 
demonstrations of the most extraordinary nature, tin whistles 
predominating, on the opposite bank, where I saw a genuine 
bishop capering along with the crowd, waving his hat on his 
stick. It came off straight and tense and arrowy, cheered to 
the last stroke. 

‘ So near it!’ said Lord Symonds, after shouting ‘Well 
rowed, Pembroke ! ’ until he could shout no longer. 

‘ Near what ? ’ I asked. 

c A bump,’ said he, sadly ; ‘ but it was jolly well rowed ! 5 
and for the moment I felt that no earthly achievement could 
compare with the making of bumps. 

Such excitement I never saw, among the Dons on the 
barges — my first Dons, too, but they differed very much; I 
could not generalise about them — among their wives, who 
seemed unaggressive, youngish ladies, as a rule, in rather subdued 
gowns ; among the gay people down from ‘ Town,’ among the 
college men, incorrigibly uproarious ; among that considerable 
body of society that adds so little to the brilliance of such an 
occasion but contributes so largely to its noise. And after it 
was over a number of exuberant young men on the other side 
plunged into the noble river Isis and crossed it with a few well- 
placed strides, and possibly two strokes. None of them were 
drowned. 

After that we had a joyous half-hour in the apartments, at 
Exeter, of Mr. Bertie Corke, whose brown eyes had Peter’s 
very twinkle in them, and who became established in our affec- 
tions at once upon that account. Mr. Corke was one of 
the Exeter Eight, and he looked reproachfully at us when we 
inadvertently stated that we had lingered to congratulate Pem- 
broke. 



A GENUINE BISHOP.’ 




254 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


4 Pembroke got a bump, you know, yesterday,’ I remarked, 
proud of the technicality. 

4 Yes,’ returned Mr. Bertie Corke, ruefully, 4 bumped us’ 

This was an unfortunate beginning, but it did not mar our 
subsequent relations with Miss Peter Corke’s brother, which 
were of the pleasantest description. He told us on the way 
down once more to the noble river Isis the names of all those 
delightful elderly stone images that had themselves put over 
the college doors centuries ago, when they were built, and he 
got almost as many interiors into half an hour as his sister 
could. He explained to us, too, how, by the rules of the Uni- 
versity, he was not allowed to play marbles on the college steps, 
or to wear clothes of other than an 4 obfusc hue,’ which was 
exactly the kind of thing that Peter would tell you — and 
expect you to remember. He informed us, too, that according 
to the pure usage of Oxonian English he was a 4 Fresher,’ the 
man we had just passed being an unattached student, a 
4 tosher,’ probably walking for what in the vulgar tongue might 
be called exercise, but here was 4 ekker.’ In many ways he 
was like Peter, and he objected just as much to my abuse of 
the English climate. 

The second race was very like the first, with more enthu- 
siasm. I have a little folding card with 4 The Eights, May 22 
to 28, 1890,’ and the names of the colleges in the order of 
starting, printed in blue letters on the inside. The 4 order of 
finish ’ from 4 B. N. 0.’ to 4 St. Edm. Hall ’ is in Mr. Bertie 
Corke’s handwriting. I’m not a sentimentalist, but I liked the 
Eights, and I mean to keep this souvenir. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


255 



HE records of my ex- 
periences in London 
would be very incom- 
plete without another 
chapter devoted to 
those Miss Peter 
Corke arranged for 
me. Indeed, I would 
need the license of 
many chapters to ex- 
plain at any length 
how generously Miss 
Corke fulfilled to me the offices of guide, philosopher, and friend ; 
how she rounded out my days with counsel, and was in all of 
them a personal blessing. 

Dispensing information was a habit which Peter Corke 
incorrigibly established — one of the things she could not help. 
I believe an important reason why she liked me was because I 
gave her such unlimited opportunities for indulging it, and she 
said I simulated gratitude fairly well. For my own part, I 
always liked it, whether it was at the expense of my accent or 
my idioms, my manners or my morals, my social theories or my 
general education, and encouraged her in it. I was pleased with 


XXIV 


256 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


the idea that she found me interesting enough to make it worth 
while, for one thing, and then it helped my understanding of 
the lady herself better than anything else would have done. 
And many voyages and large expense might go into the balance 
against an acquaintance with Peter Corke. 

Miss Corke was more ardently attached to the Past than any- 
body I have ever known or heard of that did not live in it. Her 
interest did not demand any great degree of antiquity, though 
it increased in direct ratio with the centuries ; the mere fact 
that a thing was over and done with, laid on the shelf, or getting 
mossy and forgotten, was enough to secure her respectful con- 
sideration. She liked old folios and prints — it was her pastime 
to poke in the dust of ages; I’ve seen her placidly enjoying a 
graveyard — with no recent interments — for half an hour at a 
time. She had a fine scorn of the Present in all its forms and 
phases. If I heard her speak with appreciation of anybody with 
whose reputation I was unacquainted, I generally found it safe 
to ask, intelligently, ‘When did he die?’ She always knew 
exactly, and who attended the funeral, and what became of the 
children, and whether the widow got an annuity from the 
Government or not, being usually of the opinion that the widow 
should have had the annuity. 

Of course, it was Miss Corke who took me down into Fleet 
Street to see where Dr. Johnson used to live. I did not hear 
the name of Dr. Johnson from another soul in London during 
the whole of my visit. My friend bore down through the 
Strand, and past that mediaeval griffin where Temple Bar was, 
that claws the air in protection of your placid Prince in a frock- 
coat underneath — stopping here an instant for anathema — and 
on into the crook of Fleet Street, under St. Paul’s, with all the 
pure delight of an enthusiastic cicerone in her face. I think 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


257 


Peter loved the Strand and Fleet Street almost as well as Dr. 
Johnson did, and she always wore direct descendants of the 
seven-league boots. This was sometimes a little trying for mine, 

which had no pedigree, though, in other respects ; but I must 

not be led into the statement that shoemaking is not scientific- 
ally apprehended in this country. I have never yet been able 
to get anybody to believe it. 

4 This,’ said Miss Corke, as we emerged from a dark little 
alley occupied by two unmuzzled small boys and a dog into a 
dingy rectangle, where the London light came down upon un- 
blinking rows of windows in walls of all colours that get the 
worse for wear — 4 this is Gough Court. Dr. Johnson lived here 
until the death of his wife. You remember that he had a wife, 
and she died ? ’ 

4 1 have not the least doubt of it,’ I replied. 

4 I’ve no patience with you ! ’ cried Miss Corke, fervently. 
4 Well, when she died he was that disconsolate, in spite of his 
dictionaries, that he couldn’t bear it here any longer, and moved 
away.’ 

4 1 don’t think that was remarkable,’ I said, looking round ; 
to which Miss Corke replied that it was a fine place in those 
days, and Johnson paid so many pounds, shillings, and pence 
rent for it every Lady Day. 4 1 am waiting,’ she said, with 
ironical resignation, 4 for you to ask me which house.’ 

4 Oh ! ’ said I. 4 Which house ? ’ 

‘That yellowish one, at the end, idjit ! ’ said Peter, with 
exasperation. 4 Now, if you please, we’ll go ! ’ 

I took one long and thoughtful look at the yellowish house 
at the end, and tried to imagine the compilation of lexicons inside 
its walls about the year 1748, and turned away feeling that I 
had done all within my personal ability for the memory of Dr. 


2 5 8 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


Johnson. Miss Corke, however, was not of that opinion. 4 He 
moved to Johnson’s Court somewhat later,’ she said, 4 which 
you must be careful to remember was not named from him. 
We’ll just go there now.’ 

4 Is it far ? ’ I asked ; 4 because there must be other celebri- 
ties ’ 

4 Far ! ’ repeated Miss Corke, with a withering accent ; 4 not 
ten minutes’ walk ! Do the trams run everywhere in America ? 
There may be other celebrities — London is a good place for 
them — but there’s only one Samuel Johnson.’ 

We went through various crooked ways to Johnson’s Court, 
Miss Corke explaining and reviling at every step. 4 We hear ,’ 
she remarked with fine scorn, 4 of intelligent Americans who 
come over here and apply themselves diligently to learn London ! 
And I’ve never met a citizen of you yet,’ she went on, ignoring 
my threatening parasol, 4 that was not quite satisfied at seeing 
one of Johnson’s houses — houses he lived in ! You are a nation 
of tasters, Miss Mamie Wick of Chicago ! ’ At which I declared 
myself, for the honour of the Stars and Stripes, willing to 
swallow any quantity of Dr. Johnson, and we turned into a little 
paved parallelogram seven times more desolate than the first. 
Its prevailing idea was soot, relieved by scraps of blackened ivy 
that twisted along some of the window-sills. I once noticed 
very clever ivy decorations in iron upon a London balcony, and 
always afterwards found some difficulty in deciding between 
that and the natural vine, unless the wind blew. And I would 
not like to commit myself about the ivy that grew in Johnson’s 
Court. 4 Dear me ! ’ said I ; 4 so he lived here, too ! ’ I do not 
transcribe this remark because it struck me as particularly 
clever, but because it seems to me to be the kind of thing any- 
body might have said without exciting indignation. But Peter 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


259 

immediately began to fulminate again. ‘ Yes, 5 she said, ‘ he 
lived here too, miss, at No. 7, as you don’t appear to care 
to know. A little intelligent curiosity,’ she continued, ap- 
parently appealing to the Samuel Johnson chimneys, ‘ would 
be gratifying ! ’ 

We walked around these precincts several times, while Miss 
Corke told me interesting stories that reminded me of Collier’s 
‘ English Literature ’ at school, and asked me if by any chance I 
had ever heard of Boswell. I loved to find myself knowing 
something occasionally, just to annoy Peter, and when I said 
certainly, he was the man to whom Dr. Johnson owed his repu- 
tation, it had quite the usual effect. 

‘We shall now go to Bolt Court,’ said my friend, ‘where 
Samuel spent the last of his days, surrounded by a lot of old 
ladies that I don’t see how he ever put up with, and from which 
he was carried to Westminster Abbey in 1784. Hadn’t you 
better put that down ? ’ 

Now Peter Corke would never have permitted me to call 
Dr. Johnson ‘ Samuel.’ 

I looked round Johnson s Court with lingering affection, and 
hung back. ‘ There is something about this place,’ I said, 
‘ some occult attraction, that makes me hate to leave it. I 
believe, Peter, that the Past, under your influence, is beginning 
to affect me properly. I dislike the thought of remaining for 
any length of time out of reach, as it were, of the memory of 
Dr. Johnson.’ 

Peter looked at me suspiciously. ‘ He lived at Bolt Court 
as well,’ she said. 

‘ Nowhere between here and there ? ’ I asked. ‘ No friend’s 
house, for instance, where he often spent the night ? Where 
did that lady live who used to give him nineteen cups of tea at 


26 o 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


a sitting? Couldn't we pause and refresh ourselves by looking 
at her portals on the way ? 9 

4 Transatlantic impertinence/ cried Miss Corke, leading the 
way out, 4 is more than I can bear ! 9 

4 But/ I said, still hanging back, 4 about how far ? 9 

When my dear friend gave vent to the little squeal with which 
she received this, I knew that her feelings were worked up to a 
point where it was dangerous to tamper with them, so I sub- 
mitted to Bolt Court, walking with humility all the way. When 
we finally arrived I could see no intrinsic difference between this 
court and the others, except that rather more — recently — current 
literature had blown up from an adjacent news-stall. For a 
person who changed his residence so often, Dr. Johnson’s 
domestic tastes must have undergone singularly little altera- 
tion. 

4 He went from here to Westminster Abbey, I think you 
said/ I remarked, respectfully, to Peter. 

4 In 1784/ said Peter, who is a stickler for dates. 

4 And has not moved since ! 9 I added, with some anxiety, j ust 
to aggravate Peter, who was duly aggravated. 

4 Well/ I responded, 4 we saw Westminster Abbey, you 
remember. And I took particular notice of the monument to 
Dr. Johnson. We needn’t go there 9 

4 It’s in St. Paul’s ! ’ said Peter, in a manner which wounded 
me, for if there is an unpleasant thing it is to be disbelieved. 

4 And which house did Dr. Johnson live in here ? ’ I 
inquired. 

4 Come/ said Peter, solemnly, 4 and I’ll show you/ 

4 It has been lost to posterity/ she continued, with depres- 
sion — 4 burnt in 1819. But we have the site — there ! ’ 

4 Oh ! * I replied. 4 We have the site. That is — that is 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


261 


something, I suppose. But I don’t find it very stimulating to 
the imagination.’ 

4 You haven’t any ! ’ remarked Miss Corke, with vehemence; 
and I have no doubt she had reason to think so. As a matter of 
fact, however, the name of Samuel Johnson is not a household 
word in Chicago. We don’t govern our letter- writing by his 
Dictionary, and as to the 4 Tatler ’ and the 4 Rambler,’ it is 
impossible for people living in the United States to read up the 
back numbers of even their own magazines. It is true that we 
have no excuse for not knowing 4 Rasselas,’ but I’ve noticed 
that at home hardly any of the English classics have much 
chance against Rider Haggard, and now that Rudyard Kipling 
has arisen it will be worse still for elderly respectable authors 
like Dr. Johnson. So that while I was deeply interested to 
know that the great lexicographer had hallowed such a con- 
siderable part of London with his residence, I must confess, to 
be candid, that I would have been satisfied with fewer of his 
architectural remains. I could have done, for instance, without 
the site, though I dare say, as Peter says, they were all good 
for me. 

Before I reached Lady Torquilin’s flat again that day, Peter 
showed me the particular window in Wine Office Court where 
dear little Goldsmith sat deploring the bailiff and the landlady 
when Dr. Johnson took the 4 Vicar ’ away and sold it for sixty 
pounds- -that delightful old fairy godfather whom everybody 
knows so much better than as the author of 4 Rasselas.’ And 
the 4 Cheshire Cheese,’ on the other side of the way , that quaintest 
of low-windowed taverns, where the two sat with their friends 
over the famous pudding that is still served on the same day of 
the week. Here I longed in especial to go inside and inquire 
about the pudding, and when we might come down and have 


262 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


some ; but Peter said it was not proper for ladies, and hurried 
me on. As if any impropriety could linger about a place a 
hundred and fifty years old ! 

The Temple also we saw that day, and Goldsmith’s quiet, 
solitary grave in the shadow of the old Knights’ Church, more 
interesting and lovable there, somehow, than it would be in the 
crowd at Westminster. Miss Peter Corke was entirely delight- 
ful in the Temple, whether she talked of Goldsmith’s games and 
dancing over Blackstone’s sedate head in Brick Court, or of 
Elizabeth sitting on the wide platform at the end of the Middle 
Temple Hall at the first performance of c Twelfth Night/ where, 
somewhere beneath those dusky oak rafters, Shakespeare made 
another critic. Peter never talked scandal in the present tense, 
on principle, but a more interesting gossip than she was of a 
century back I never had a cup of tea with, which we got not 
so very far from the Cock Tavern in Fleet Street ; and I had 
never known before that Mr. Pepys was a flirt. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


263 


XXV 


R. MAFFERTON frequently 
expressed his regret that al- 
most immediately after my 
arrival in London — in fact, 
during the time of my dis- 
appearance from the Metro- 
pole, and just as he became 
aware of my being with Lady 
Torquilin — his mother and 
two sisters had been obliged 
to go to the Riviera on ac- 
count of one of the Misses 
Mafferton’s health. One 
afternoon — the day before 
they left, I believe — Lady Torquilin and I, coming in, found a 
large assortment of cards belonging to the family, which were 
to be divided between us, apparently. But, as Mr. Charles 
Mafferton was the only one of them left in town, my acquaint- 
ance with the Maffertons had made very little progress, except, 
of course, with the portly old cousin I have mentioned before, 
who was a lord, and who stayed in London through the entire 
session of Parliament. This cousin and I became so well ac- 
quainted, in spite of his being a lord, that we used to ask each 
other conundrums. 4 What do they call a black cat in London?’ 
was a favourite one of his. But I had the advantage of Lord 
18 



264 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


Mafferton here, for be always forgot that he had asked the same 
conundrum the last time we met, and thought me tremendously 
clever when I answered, c Puss, puss ! 9 But, as I have said 
before, there were very few particulars in which this nobleman 
gratified my inherited idea of what a lord ought to be. 

One of the Misses Mafferton — the one who enjoyed good 
health — had very kindly taken the trouble to write to me from 
the Riviera a nice friendly letter, saying how sorry they all were 
that we did not meet before they left Town, and asking me to 
make them a visit as soon as they returned in June. The letter 
went on to say that they had shared their brother’s anxiety 
about me for some time, but felt quite comfortable in the thought 
of leaving me so happily situated with Lady Torquilin, an old 
friend of their own, and was it not singular ? Miss Mafferton 
exclaimed, in her pointed handwriting, signing herself mine 
ever affectionately, E. F. Mafferton. I thought it was certainly 
singularly nice of her to write to me like that, a perfect stranger; 
and while I composed an answer in the most cordial terms I 
could, I thought of all I had heard about the hearty hospitality 
of the English — ‘ when once you know them.’ 

When I told Mr. Mafferton I had heard from his sister, and 
how much pleasure the letter had given me, he blushed in the 
most violent and unaccountable manner, but seemed pleased 
nevertheless. It was odd to see Mr. Mafferton discomposed, 
and it discomposed me. I could not in the least understand 
why his sister’s politeness to a friend of his should embarrass 
Mr. Mafferton, and was glad when he said he had no doubt 
Eleanor and I would be great friends, and changed the subject. 
But it was about this time that another invitation from relatives 
of Mr. Mafferton’s living in Berkshire gave me my one always- 
to-be-remembered experience of the country in England. Lady 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


2D5 

Torquilin was invited too, but the invitation was for a Tuesday 
and Wednesday particularly full of engagements for her. 

4 Couldn’t we write and say we’d rather come next week ? * 
I suggested. 

Lady Torquilin looked severely horrified. 4 1 should think 
not ! ’ she replied. 4 You’re not in America, child. I hardly 
know these people at all ; moreover, it’s you they want to see, 
and not me in the least. So 1*11 just send my apologies, and tell 
Mrs. Stacy you’re an able-bodied young woman who gets about 
wonderfully by herself, and that she may expect you by the 
train she proposes — and see that you don’t outstay your invita- 
tion, young lady, or I shall be in a fidget ! ’ And Lady Torquilin 
gave me her cheek to kiss, and went away and wrote to Mrs. 
Stacy as she had said. 

An hour or two beyond London the parallel tracks of the 
main line stretched away in the wrong direction for me, and 
my train sped down them, leaving me for a few minutes 
undecided how to proceed. The little station seemed to 
have nothing whatever to do with anything but the main line. 
It sat there in the sun and cultivated its flower-beds, and 
waited for the big trains to come thundering by, and had no 
concern but that. Presently, however, I observed, standing all 
by itself beside a row of tulips under a clay bank on the other 
side of the bridge, the most diminutive thing in railway trans- 
port I had ever seen. It was quite complete, engine and cab, 
and luggage-van and all, with its passenger accommodation pro- 
perly divided into first, second, and third class, and it stood 
there placidly, apparently waiting for somebody. And I followed 
niy luggage over the bridge with the quiet conviction that this 
was the train for Pinbury, and that it was waiting for me, 


266 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


There was nobody else. And after the porter had stowed my 
effects carefully away in the van he also departed, leaving the Pin • 
bury train in my charge. I sat in it for a while and admired the 
tulips, and wondered how soon it would rain, and fixed my veil, 
and looked over the 4 Daily Graphic 5 again, but nothing hap- 
pened. It occurred to me that possibly the little Pinbury train 
had been forgotten, and I got out. There was no one on the 
platform, but just outside the station I saw a rusty old coachman 
seated on the box of an open landau, so I spoke to him. 4 Does 
that train go to Pinbury ? ’ I asked. He said it did. 4 Does 
it go to-day ? ’ I inquired further. He looked amused at my 
ignorance. 4 Oh yes, lady,’ he replied ; 4 she goes every day — 
twice. But she ’as to wait for two hup trains yet. She’ll be 
hoff in about ’alf an hour now ! ’ — this reassuringly. 

When we did start it took us exactly six minutes to get to 
Pinbury, and I was sorry I had not tipped the engine-driver and 
got him to run down with me and back again while he was 
waiting. Whatever they may say to the contrary, there are few 
things in England that please Americans more than the omni- 
potence of the tip. 

Two of the Stacy young ladies met me on the Pinbury plat- 
form, and gave me quite the most charming welcome I have 
had in England. With the exception of Peter Corke — and 
Peter would be exceptional anywhere — I had nearly always 
failed to reach any sympathetic relation with the young ladies 
I had come in contact with in London. Perhaps this was be- 
cause I did not see any of them very often or very long together, 
and seldom without the presence of some middle-aged lady who 
controlled the conversation ; but the occasions of my meeting 
with the London girl had never sufficed to overcome the natural 
curiosity with which she usually regarded me. I rejoiced when 



HE LOOKED AMUSED AT MY IGNORANCE, 


268 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


I saw that it would be different with Miss Stacy and Miss 
Dorothy Stacy, and probably with the other Misses Stacy at 
home. They regarded me with outspoken interest, but not at 
all with fear. They were very polite, but their politeness was 
of the gay, unconscious sort, which only impresses you when you 
think of it afterwards. Delightfully pretty, though lacking 
that supreme inertia of expression that struck me so often as 
the finishing touch upon London beauty, and gracefully tall, 
without that impressiveness of development I had observed in 
town, Miss Dorothy Stacy’s personality gave me quite a new 
pleasure. It was invested in round pink cheeks and clear grey 
eyes, among other things that made it most agreeable to look at 
her ; and yellow hair that went rippling down her back ; and 
the perfect freshness and unconsciousness of her beauty, with 
her height and her gentle muscularity, reminded one of an 
immature goddess of Olympia, if such a person could be imagined 
growing up. Miss Dorothy Stacy was sixteen past, and in a 
later moment of confidence she told me that she lived in dread 
of being obliged to turn up her hair and wear irretrievably long 
‘ frocks.’ I found this unreasonable, but charming. In America 
all joys are grown up, and the brief period of pinafores is one of 
probation. 

We drove away in a little brown dogcart behind a little 
brown pony into the English country, talking a great deal. Miss 
Stacy drove, and I sat beside her, while Miss Dorothy Stacy 
occupied the seat in the rear when she was not alighting in the 
middle of the road to pick up the Pinbury commissions, which 
did not travel well, or the pony’s foot, to see if he had a stone 
in it. The pony objected with mild viciousness to having his 
foot picked up ; but Miss Dorothy did not take his views into 
account at all ; up came the foot and out came the stone. The 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


269 


average American girl would have driven helplessly along until 
she overtook a man, I think. 

I never saw a finer quality of mercy anywhere than the Stacy 
young ladies exhibited toward their beast. When we came to 
a rising bit of road Miss Dorothy invariably leaped down and 
walked as well as the pony, to save him fatigue ; when a slight 
declivity presented itself he walked again solemnly to the 
bottom, occasionally being led. He expected this attention 
always at such times, pausing at the top and looking round for 
it, and when it was withheld his hind-quarters assumed an 
aggrieved air of irresponsibility. When Miss Stacy wished to 
increase his rate of going by a decimal point, she flicked him 
gently, selecting a spot where communication might be made with 
his brain at least inconvenience to himself ; but she never did any- 
thing that would really interfere with his enjoyment of the drive. 

Of course, Miss Stacy wanted to know what I thought of 
England in a large general way, but before I had time to do 
more than mention a few heads under which I had gathered my 
impressions she particularised with reference to the scenery. 
Miss Stacy asked me what I thought of English scenery, with 
a sweet and ladylike confidence, including most of what we were 
driving through, with a graceful flourish of her whip. She said 
I might as well confess that we hadn’t such nice scenery in 
America. 6 Grander, you know — more mountains and lakes and 
things,’ said Miss Stacy, 1 but not really so nice, now, have 
you ? ’ No, I said ; unfortunately it was about the only thing 
we couldn’t manage to take back with us ; at which Miss Stacy 
astonished me with the fact that she knew I was going to be 
a treat to her — so original — and I must be simply craving my 
tea, and it was good of me to come, and flicked the pony severely, 
so that he trotted for almost half a mile without a pause. 


270 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


Bat we returned to the scenery, for I did not wish to be 
thought unappreciative, and the Misses Stacy were good enough 
to be interested in the points that I found particularly novel 
and pleasing — the flowering hedges that leaned up against the 
fields by the wayside, and the quantities of little birds that 
chirruped in and out of them, and the trees, all twisted round 
with ivy, and especially the rabbits, that bobbed about in the 
meadows and turned up their little white tails with as much 
naivete as if the world were a kitchen-garden closed to the 
public. The ‘ bunnies,’ as Miss Dorothy Stacy called them, 
were a source of continual delight to me. I could never refrain 
from exclaiming, 4 There’s another ! ’ much to the young ladies’ 
amusement. ‘ You see,’ explained Miss Dorothy in apology, 
‘ they’re not new to us, the dear sweet things ! One might 
say one has been brought up with them, one knows all their 
little ways. But they are loves, and it is nice of you to like 
them.’ 

The pony stopped altogether on one little rise, as if he were 
accustomed to it, to allow us to take a side-look across the 
grey-green fields to where they lost themselves in the blue dis- 
tance, in an effort to climb. It was a lovely landscape, full of 
pleasant thoughts, ideally still and gently conscious. There was 
the glint of a river in it, white in the sun, with twisting lines 
of round-headed willows marking which way it went; and 
other trees in groups and rows threw soft shadows across the 
contented fields. These trees never blocked the view ; one 
could always see over and beyond them into other peaceful 
stretches, with other clumps and lines, greyer and smaller as they 
neared the line where the low, blue sky thickened softly into 
clouds and came closer down. An occasional spire, here and 
there a farmhouse, queer, old-fashioned hayricks gossiping in 


A /Y AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


271 


tlie corners of the fields, cows, horses, crows. All as if it had 
been painted by a tenderly conscientious artist, who economised 
his carmines and allowed himself no caprices except in the 
tattered hedge, full of May, in the foreground ; all as if Nature 
had understood a woman’s chief duty to be tidy and delectable, 
except for this ragged hem of her embroidered petticoat. I 
dare say it would not seem so to you ; but the country as I had 
known it in America had been an expanse of glowing colour, 
diversified by a striking pattern of snake-fences, relieved by 
woods that nobody had ever planted, and adorned by the bare, 
commanding brick residences of the agricultural population. 
Consequently, delightful as I found this glimpse of English 
scenery, I could not combat the idea that it had all been care- 
fully and beautifully made, and was usually kept under cotton- 
wool. You would understand this if you knew the important 
part played in our rural districts by the American stump. 

c Isn’t it lovely ? ’ asked Miss Stacy, with enthusiasm. Two 
cows in the middle distance suddenly disappeared behind a hay- 
rick, and for a moment the values of the landscape became con- 
fused. Still, 1 was able to say that it was lovely, and so neat — 
which opinion I was obliged to explain to Miss Stacy, as I 
have to you, while the brown pony took us thoughtfully on. 


272 


AN A MEM CAN GIRL IN LONDON 


XXVI 

DROVE in at the gates of 
Hallington House as one 
might drive into the scene of 
a dear old dream — a dream 
that one has half-believed and 
half-doubted, and wholly 
loved, and dreamed again 
all one’s life long. There 
it stood, as I had always 
wondered if I might not 
see it standing in that 
far day when I should go to 
England, behind its high brick wall, in the midst of its ivies 
and laburnums and elms and laurel-bushes, looking across where 
its lawns dipped into its river at soft green meadows sloping to 
the west— a plain old solid grey stone English country-house so 
long occupied with the birthdays of other people that it had 
quite forgotten its own. Very big and very solid, without any 
pretentiousness of Mansard roof, or bow window, or balcony, or 
verandah ; its simple story of strength and shelter and home and 
hospitality was plain to me between its wide-open gates and its 
wide-open doors, and I loved it from that moment. 

It was the same all through — the Stacys realised the England 
of my imagination to me most sweetly and completely ; I found 



AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


273 


that there had been no mistake. Mrs. Stacy realised it, pretty and 
fresh and fair at fifty, plump and motherly in her black cashmere 
and lace, full of pleasant greetings and responsible inquiries. So 
did the Squire, coming out of his study to ask, with courteous 
old-fashioned solicitude, how I had borne the fatigue of the 
journey — such a delightful old Squire, left over by accident from 
the last century, with his high-bred phraseology and simple 
dignity and great friendliness. So did the rest of the Stacy 
daughters, clustering round their parents and their guest 
and the teapot, talking gaily with their rounded English 
accent of all manner of things — the South Kensington 
Museum, the Pinbury commissions, the prospects for tennis. 
Presently I found myself taken through just such narrow cor 
ridors and down just such unexpected steps as I would have 
hoped for, to my room, and left there. I remember how a soft 
wind came puffing in at the little low, tiny-paned window flung 
back on its hinges, swelling out the muslin curtains and bring- 
ing with it the sweetest sound I heard in England — a cry that was 
'juite new and strange, and yet came into me from the quiet 
hedges of the nestling world outside, as I sat there bewitched 
by it, with a plaintive familiarity — c Cuckoo Owckoo ! ’ 

I must have heard it and loved it years ago, when the Wicks 
lived in England, through the ears of my ancestors. Then I 
discovered that the room was full of a dainty scent that I had 
not known before, and traced it to multitudinous little round 
flower-bunches, palest yellow and palest green, that stood about 
in everything that would hold them — fresh and pure and deli- 
cious, all the tender soul of the spring in them, all the fairness 
of the meadows and the love of the shy English sun. Ah, the 
charm of it! It is almost worth while being brought up in 
Chicago to come fresh to cuckoos and cowslips, and learn their 


274 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


sweet meaning when you are grown up and can understand it. 
I mean, of course, entirely apart from the inestimable advan- 
tages of a Republican form of Government, female emancipation, 
and the climate of Illinois. We have no cowslips in Chicago, and 
no cuckoos ; and the cable cars do not seem altogether to make 
up for them. I couldn’t help wishing, as I leaned through my 
low little window into the fragrant peace outside, that Nature 
had taken a little more time with America. 

4 Cuckoo ! ’ from the hedge again ! I could not go till the 
answer came from the toppling elm-boughs in the field corner, 
‘ Cuckoo ! 9 And in another minute, if I listened, I should hear 
it again. 

Down below, in the meantime, out came two tidy little 
maids in cap and apron, and began to weed and to potter about 
two tidy little plots — their own little gardens anybody might 
know by the solicitude and the comparisons they indulged in — 
the freedom, too, with which they pulled what pleased them- 
selves. It was pretty to see the little maids, and I fell to con- 
jecturing such a scene in connection with the domestic duchess 
of Chicago, but without success. Her local interest could never 
be sufficiently depended upon, for one thing. Marguerite might 
plant, and Irene might water, but Arabella Maud would cer- 
tainly gather the fruits of their labour, if she kept her place long 
enough. And I doubt if the social duties of any of these ladies 
would leave them time for such idylls. 

4 CWkoo ! 9 The bird caught it from the piping of the very 
first lover’s very first love-dream. How well he must have 
listened ! . . . 4 Cuckoo ! ’ 

I bade Miss Dorothy Stacy come in when I heard her knock 
and voice ; and she seemed to bring with her, in her innocent 
strength and youth and pinkness, a very fair and harmonious 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


275 


counterpart of the cowslips and the cuckoos. She came to know 
if I wasn’t coming down to tea. ‘ Listen ! 5 I said, as the sweet 



cry came again. c I was waiting till he had finished.’ It was 
better than no excuse at all. 


276 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


4 I think I can show you from here where I susjped they have 
stolen a nest, lazy things ! ’ answered Miss Dorothy, sympatheti- 
cally, and she slipped her arm round my waist as we looked out 
of the window together in the suspected direction. 4 Then you 
don’t find them tiresome ? Some people do, you know/ 4 No/ 1 
said, 4 1 don’t/ And then Miss Dorothy confided to me that she 
was very glad ; 4 for, you know/ she said, 4 one carit like people 
who find cuckoos tiresome,’ and we concluded that we really must 
go down to tea. At that point, however, I was obliged to ask 
Miss Dorothy to wait until I did a little towards improving my 
appearance. I had quite forgotten, between the cuckoos and the 
cowslips, that I had come up principally to wash my face. 

4 You met our cousin on the ship crossing the Atlantic, 
didn’t you?’ the third Miss Stacy remarked, enthusiastically, 
over the teapot. 4 How delightfully romantic to make a— a 
friend — a friend like that , I mean, on a ship in the middle of 
the ocean ! Didn’t you always feel perfectly comfortable after- 
wards, as if, no matter what happened, he would be sure to save 
you?’ 

4 Kitty ! ’ said Mrs. Stacy from the sofa, in a tone of helpless 
rebuke. 4 Mother, darling ! ’ said Kitty, 4 1 do beg your pardon ! 
Your daughter always speaks first and thinks afterwards, doesn’t 
she, sweetest mother! But you must have had that feeling,’ 
Miss Stacy continued to me ; 4 1 know you had ! ’ 

4 Oh, no ! ’ I returned. It was rather an awkward situation 
— I had no wish to disparage Miss Stacy’s cousin’s heroism, 
which, nevertheless, I had not relied upon in the least. C 1 
don’t think I thought about being drowned,’ I said. 

4 That proves it ! ’ she cried in triumph. 4 Your confidence 
was so perfect that it was unconscious ! Sweetest mother — - 
there, I won’t say another word ; not another syllable, mother 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


2 77 


mine, shall pass your daughter’s lips ! But one does like to 
show one’s self in the right, doesn’t one, Miss Wick?’ — and 
Mrs. Stacy surrendered to an impulsive volume of embraces 
which descended from behind the sofa, chiefly upon the back of 
her neck. 

How pleasant it was, that five o’clock tea-drinking in the old- 
fashioned drawing-room, with the jessamine nodding in at the 
window and all the family cats gathered upon the hearthrug — 
five in number, with one kitten. The Stacy’s compromise in 
the perpetually-recurring problem of new kittens was to keep 
only the representative of a single generation for family affec- 
tion and drawing-room privileges. The rest were obscurely 
brought up in the stables and located as early as was en- 
tirely humane with respectable cottagers, or darkly spoken of 
as 4 kitchen cats.’ There had been only one break in the line 
of posterity that gravely licked itself on the rug, or besought 
small favours rubbingly with purrs — made by a certain Satanella, 
who ate her kittens ! and suffered banishment in consequence. 
But this was confided to me in undertones by the second Miss 
Stacy, who begged me not to mention the matter to Dorothy. 
4 We don’t talk about it often, for Satanella was her cat, you 
know, and she can’t get over her behaving so dreadfully.’ 
Each cat had its individual history, and to the great-great- 
grandmother of them attached the thrilling tale, if I remember 
rightly, of having once only escaped hanging by her own mus- 
cular endurance and activity ; but none bore so dark a blot as 
covered the memory of Satanella. Perhaps it is partly owing 
to my own fondness for pussies, but ever since I made the 
acquaintance of the Stacys I must confess to disparaging a 
family with no cats in it. 

It was naturally Dorothy who took me out to see the 


278 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


garden — sweet, shy Dorothy, who seemed so completely to have 
grown in a garden that Lady Torqnilin, when she brought her 
pink cheeks afterwards to gladden the flat in Cadogan 
Mansions, dubbed her ‘the Wild Rose’ at once. At any rate, 
Dorothy had always lived just here beside her garden, and 
never anywhere else, for she told me so in explaining her affec- 
tion for it. I thought of the number of times we had moved in 
Chicago, and sighed. 

It was not a very methodical garden, Dorothy remarked in 
apology — the dear sweet things mostly came up of their own 
accord year after year, and the only ambition Peter entertained 
towards it was to keep it reasonably weeded. A turn in the 
walk disclosed Peter at the moment with a wheelbarrow — the 
factotum of garden and stable, a solemn bumpkin of twenty, 
with a large red face and a demeanour of extreme lethargy. 
His countenance broke into something like a deferential grin as 
he passed us. 4 Can you make him understand ? 9 I asked 
Miss Dorothy. 4 Oh, I should think so ! 9 she replied. 4 He is 
very intelligent ! 9 From his appearance I should not have said 
so. There was nothing 4 sharp,’ as we say in America, about 
Peter, though afterwards I heard him whistling 4 Two lovely 
black eyes ’ with a volume of vigorous expression that made one 
charge him with private paradoxical sweethearting. But I was 
new to the human product after many generations of the fields 
and hedges. 

It was a square garden, shut in from the road and the 
neighbours by that high old red-brick wall. A tennis-court lay 
in the middle in the sun ; the house broke into a warmly-tinted 
gable, red-roofed and plastered and quaint, that nestled over 
the little maids in the larder, I think, at one end ; a tall elm 
and a spreading horse-chestnut helped the laurestinus bushes tc 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


279 


shut it in from the lawns and the drive and any eyes that might 
not fall upon it tenderly. We sat down upon the garden-seat 
that somebody had built round the elm, Dorothy and I, and I 
looked at the garden as one turns the pages of an old story- 
book. There were the daisies in the grass, to begin with, all 
over, by hundreds and thousands, turning their bright little 
white-and-yellow faces up at me and saying something — I don’t 
know quite what. I should have had to listen a long time to be 
sure it was anything but 4 Don’t step on me ! 5 but I had a vague 
feeling that every now and then one said, 4 Can’t you 
remember ? ’ Dorothy remarked it was really disgraceful, so 
many of them, and Peter should certainly mow them all down 
in the morning — by which her pretty lips gave me a keen pang. 
4 Oh ! ’ I said, 4 what a pity ! ’ 4 Yes,’ she said, relentingly, 

4 they are dear things, but they’re very untidy. The worst of 
Peter is,’ she went on, with a shade of reflection, 4 that we are 
obliged to keep at him.’ 

I dare say you don’t think much of daisies in the grass — you 
have always had so many. You should have been brought up 
on dandelions instead — in Chicago ! 

Then there were all the sweet spring English flowers grow- 
ing in little companies under the warm brick wall — violets and 
pansies and yellow daffodils, and in one corner a tall, brave 
array of anemones, red and purple and white. And against 
the wall rose-bushes and an ancient fig-tree ; and farther on, 
all massed and tangled in its own dark-green shadows, the 
ivy, pouring out its abundant heart to drape and soften the 
other angle, and catch the golden rain of the laburnum that 
hung over. And this English Dorothy, with her yellow hair 
and young-eyed innocence, the essence and the flower of 
it all. 


19 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


280 

Near the stables, in onr roundabout ramble to the kitchen- 
garden, Dorothy showed me, with seriousness, a secluded corner, 
holding two small mounds and two small wooden tablets. On 
one the head of a spaniel was carved painstakingly and painted, 
with the inscription, 4 Here Lies a Friend.’ The second tablet 
had no bas-relief and a briefer legend : 4 Here Lies Another.' 
4 Jack,’ said she, with a shade of retrospection, 4 and Jingo. Jack 
died in — let me see — eighteen eighty-five. Jingo two years 
later, in eighteen eighty-seven. I didn’t do Jingo’s picture,’ 
Miss Dorothy went on, pensively. 4 It wasn’t really necessary, 
they were so very much alike.’ 

About the kitchen-garden 1 remember only how rampant 
the gooseberry-bushes were, how portentous the cabbages, and 
how the whole Vegetable Kingdom combined failed to keep out 
a trailing company of early pink roses that had wandered in 
from politer regions to watch the last of the sunset across the 
river and beyond the fields. 

4 I have a letter to send,’ said Miss Dorothy, 4 and as we go 
to the post-office you shall see Hallington.’ So we went through 
the gates that closed upon this dear inner world into the wind- 
ing road. It led us past 4 The Green Lion,’ amiably couchant 
upon a creaking sign that swung from a yellow cottage, past a 
cluster of little houses with great brooding roofs of straw, past 
the village school, in a somewhat bigger cottage, in one end 
whereof the schoolmistress dwelt and looked out upon her 
lavender and rue, to the post-office at the top of the hill, where 
the little woman inside, in a round frilled cap and spectacles, 
and her shawl pinned tidily across her breast, sold buttons and 
thread, and 4 sweeties ’ and * ginger ale, and other things. My 
eye lighted with surprise upon a row of very familiar wedge- 
shaped tins, all blue and red. They contained corned beef, 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


281 


and they came from Chicago. c I know the gentleman who 
puts those up very well/ I said to Miss Dorothy Stacy ; c Mr. 
W. P. Hitt, of Chicago. He is a great friend of poppa’s. 
‘ Really ! ’ said she, with slight embarrassment. ‘ Does he — does 
he do it himself ? How clever of him ! 5 

On the way back through the village of Hallington we met 
several stolid little girls by ones and twos and threes, and every 
little girl, as we approached, suddenly lowered her person and 
her petticoats by about six inches and brought it up again in a 
perfectly straight line, and without any change of expression 
whatever. It seemed to me a singular and most amusing 
demonstration, and Miss Dorothy explained that it was a curt- 
sey — a very proper mark of respect. ‘ But surely/ she said, 
‘ your little cottager girls in America curtsey to the ladies and 
gentlemen they meet ! ’ And Miss Dorothy found it difficult to 
understand just why the curtsey was not a popular genuflection 
in America, even if we had any little cottager girls to practise 
it, which I did not think we had, exactly. 

Later on we gathered round a fire, with the cats, under the 
quaint old portraits of very straight-backed dead-and-gone 
ladies Stacy in the drawing-room, and I told all I knew about 
the Apache Indians and Niagara Falls. I think I also set the 
minds of the Stacy family at rest about the curious idea that 
we want to annex Canada — they had some distant relations 
there, I believe, whom they did not want to see annexed — 
although it appeared that the relations had been heterodox on 
the subject, and had said they wouldn’t particularly mind ! I 
suggested that they were probably stock-raising in the North- 
west out there, and found our tariff inconvenient; and the 
Stacys said Yes, they were. I continued that the union they 
would like to see was doubtless commercial, and not political ; 


282 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 

and the Stacys, when they thought of this, became more cheerful. 
Further on, the Squire handed me a silver candlestick at the foot 
of the stairs with the courtliness of three generations past ; and 
as I went to bed by candle-light for the first time in my life, I 



‘ MISS DOROTHY EXPLAINED THAT IT WAS A CURTSEY.’ 


wondered whether I would not suddenly arrive, like this, at the 
end of a chapter, and find that I had just been reading one of 
Rhoda Broughton’s novels. But in the morning it came in at 
the window with the scent of the lilacs, and I undoubtedly heard 
it again — 1 Cuckoo ! ’ . . . 1 Cuckoo ! 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


28.3 


XXYII 

‘ fTAVEN’T you some letters, child, to your Ambassador, or 
-LI- whatever he is, here in London ? ’ asked Lady Torquilin 
one morning. 

6 Why, yes,’ I said, ‘ I have. I’d forgotten about them. 
He is quite an old friend of poppa’s — in a political way ; but 
poppa advised me not to bother him so long as I wasn’t in any 
difficulty — he must have such lots of Americans coming over 
here for the summer and fussing round every year, you know. 
And I haven’t been.’ 

4 Well, you must now,’ declared Lady Torquilin, ‘for I want 
you to go to Court with me a fortnight from to-day. It’s five 
years since I’ve gone, and quite time I should put in an appear- 
ance again. Besides, the Maffertons wish it.’ 

‘ The Maffertons wish it ? ’ I said. ‘ Dear me ! I consider 
that extremely kind. I suppose they think I would enjoy it 
very much. And I dare say I should/ 

‘ Lady Mafferton and 1 talked it over yesterday,’ Lady Tor- 
quilin continued, 4 and we agreed that although either she or I 
might present you, it would be more properly done, on account 
of your being an American, by your American man’s wife. 
Indeed, I dare say it’s obligatory. So we must see about it.’ 

And Lady Torquilin and Lady Mafferton, with very little 
assistance from me, saw about it. 

In the moment that succeeded the slight shock of the novel 


284 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


idea, I found a certain delirium in contemplating it that I could 
not explain by any of the theories I had been brought up upon. 
It took entire possession of me — I could not reason it away. 
Even in reading my home letters, which usually abstracted me 
altogether for the time, I saw it fluttering round the corners of 
the pages. 4 What would they say,’ I thought, 4 if they knew 
I was going to be presented to the Queen — their daughter, 
Mamie Wick, of Illinois ? ’ Would they consider that I had com- 
promised the strict Republican principles of the family, and 
reprobate the proceeding ! The idea gave me a momentary con- 
science-chill, which soon passed off, however, under the agreeable 
recollection of poppa’s having once said that he considered Her 
Majesty a very fine woman, and for his part he would be proud 
to be introduced to her. After all, being presented was only a 
way of being introduced to her — the way they do it in England. 
I felt pretty sure the family principles could stand that much. 
As a matter of fact, you know, very few Americans have any 
personal objection to royalty. And I dismissed the idea, 
abandoning myself to the joy of preparation, which Lady Tor- 
quilin decreed should begin the very next day. I thought this, 
though pleasurable, rather unnecessary at first. 4 Dear Lady 
Torquilin,’ said I, in the discussion of our Court dresses, 4 can’t 
we see about them next week ? — we planned so many other 
things for this one ! 9 

4 Child, child,’ returned Lady Torquilin, impressively, 4 in the 
coming fortnight we have barely time ! You must know that 
we don’t do things by steam and electricity in this country. 
You can’t go to Court by pressing a button. We haven’t a 
moment to lose. And as to other arrangements, we must just 
give everything up, so as to have our minds free and comfortable 
till we get the whole business over.’ Afterwards, about the 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


28c 



“ ‘ WHOEVER HEARD OF ATTENDING ONE OF HER MAJESTY’S DRAWING-ROOMS 
IN A FROCK MADE IN NEW YORK ! ” ’ 


286 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


seventh time I had my Court dress tried on, I became con- 
vinced that Lady Torquilin was right. You do nothing by 
steam and electricity in this country. I found that it took ten 
days to get a pair of satin slippers made. Though, c of course, 
if you were not quite so particular, miss, about that toe, or if 
you ’ad come about them sooner , we could ’ave obliged you in 
less time,’ the shoemaker said. In less time ! A Chicago firm 
would have made the slippers, gone into liquidation, had a 
clearing sale, and reopened business at the old stand in less time ! 

I like to linger over that fortnight’s excitement — its details 
were so novel and so fascinating. First, the vague and the 
general, the creation of two gowns for an occasion extraordinary, 
mentioned by head ladies, in establishments where a portrait of 
Her Majesty hung suggestively on the wall, almost with bated 
breath. Lady Torquilin for once counselled a mild degree of 
extravagance, and laughed at my ideas — though she usually 
respected them about clothes — when I laid out for her inspection 
three perfectly fresh New York dresses, quite ideal in their way, 
and asked her if any of them would c do.’ ‘ You have a great 
deal to learn, child ! ’ she said. 4 No, they won’t, indeed ! Who 
ever heard of attending one of Her Majesty’s Drawing-Rooms 
in a frock made in New York ! I’m not saying you haven’t very 
nice taste over there, my dear, for that you have ; but it stands 
to reason that your dressmakers, not having Court instructions, 
can’t be expected to know anything about Court trains, doesn’t 
it ? ’ From which there was no appeal, so that the next day or 
two went in deep conferences with the head ladies aforesaid and 
absorbed contemplation of resultant patterns — which Lady 
Torquilin never liked to hear me call ‘ samples.’ I was spared 
the trial of deciding upon a colour combination ; being a young 
lady I was to go in white, Lady Torquilin gave me to under- 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


287 


stand, by edict of the Court. But should I have the train or 
the petticoat of the brocade, or would I prefer a bengaline train 
with a bodice and petticoat of crepe de chine ? Should the train 
come from the shoulder or be c fulled 9 in at the waist ; and 
what did I really think myself about ostrich tips grouped down one 
side, or bunches of field flowers dispersed upon the petticoat, or 
just a suggestion of silver embroidery gleaming all through ; or 
perhaps mademoiselle might fancy an Empress gown, which 
would be thoroughly good style — they had made three for the 
last Drawing-Room ? I had never been so wrought up about 
any dress before. Privately, I compared it to Lady Torquilin 
with the fuss that is made about a wedding-dress. 1 My dear/ 
she exclaimed, candidly, c a wedding-dress is nothing to it ; as 
I dare say/ she added, roguishly pinching my cheek in a way 
she had, ‘ it won’t be long before you find out ! ’ But I don’t 
think Lady Torquilin really knew at the time anything about 
this. 

It was not too much, to say that those two Court dresses — 
Lady Torquilin was going in a scheme of pansy-coloured velvet 
and heliotrope — haunted our waking and sleeping hours for 
quite five days. Peter Corke, dropping in almost at the 
beginning, declared it a disgraceful waste of time, with the 
whole of Chelsea a dead-letter to me, and came again almost 
every afternoon that week to counsel and collaborate for an 
hour and a half. I may say that Miss Corke took the matter 
in hand vigorously. It was probably a detail in the improve 
ment of my mind and my manners which she could not con- 
scientiously overlook. ‘ Since you have the audacity to wish 
to kiss the hand of a sovereign who is none of yours,’ said 
she, with her usual twinkle, ‘ you’ll kindly see that you do it 
properly, miss T * So she gave us explicit instructions as to 


288 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


the right florist, and glover, and laceman, and hairdresser, to 
which even Lady Torquilin listened with respect ; c and do not 
be persuaded ,’ said she, with mock-severe emphasis, ( to go to 
anybody else. These people are dear, but you are perfectly 
safe with them, and that’s important, don’t you think ? ’ Peter 
even brought over a headdress she wore herself the season 
before, to get the American effect, she said, and offered to lend 
it to me. It consisted of three white ostrich feathers and a 
breadth of Brussels net about a yard and a half long hanging 
down behind, and I found it rather trying as an adornment. 
So I told her I was very much obliged, but I didn’t consider it 
becoming, and I thought I would go with nothing on my 
head. At which she screamed her delightful little scream, 
and said indeed I wouldn’t, if the Lord Chamberlain had any- 
thing to say in the matter. And when I found out just how 
much the Lord Chamberlain had to say in the matter — how he 
arranged the exact length of my train and cut of my bodice, 
and what I wore in my hair — the whole undertaking, while it 
grew in consequence, grew also in charm. It was interesting 
in quite a novel way to come within the operation of these 
arbitrary requirements connected with the person of royalty. 
I liked getting ready to go to Court infinitely better than if I 
had been able to do it quite my own way, and the Lord 
Chamberlain had had nothing to do with it. I enjoyed his 
interference. This was hard to reconcile with democratic prin- 
ciples, too. I intend to read up authorities in Anglo-American 
fiction who may have dealt with the situation when I get home, 
to see if they shed any light upon it, just for my own satisfac- 
tion. But I think it is a good thing that the Lord Cham- 
berlain’s authority stops where it does. It would be simple 
tyranny if he were allowed to prescribe colours for middle-aged 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


289 


ladies, for instance, and had commanded Lady Torquilin to 
appear in yellow, which is almost the only colour she can't 
wear. As it was, he was very nice indeed about it, allowing 



* I FOUND THE CURTSEY DIFFICULT AT FIRST . 7 


her to come in a V-shaped bodice on account of her predisposi- 
tion to bronchitis; but she had to write and ask him very 
politely indeed. He told her by return post— of course it was 



2 go 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


not a private letter, but a sort of circular — just which dress- 
makers had the V-shaped patterns the Queen liked best in such 
cases as hers, and Lady Torquilin at once obtained them. 
After that she said she had no further anxiety — there was 
nothing like going straight to the proper sources for informa- 
tion to have a comfortable mind. With that letter, if anything 
went wrong, the Lord Chamberlain could clearly be made re- 
sponsible — and what did one want more than that ? 

One thing that surprised me during that fortnight of pre- 
paration was the remarkable degree of interest shown in our 
undertaking by all our friends. I should have thought it an 
old story in London, but it seemed just as absorbing a topic to 
the ladies who came to see Lady Torquilin on her 1 day,’ and 
who had lived all their lives in England, as it was to me. They 
were politely curious upon every detail ; they took another cup 
of tea, and said it was really an ordeal ; they seemed to take a 
sympathetic pleasure in being, as it were, in the swirl of the 
tide that was carrying us forward to the Royal presence. If 
the ladies had been presented themselves they gave us graphic 
and varying accounts of the occasion, to which we listened with 
charmed interest ; if not, they brought forth stories, if anything 
more thrilling, of what had happened to other people they knew 
or had heard of — the lady whose diamond necklace broke as she 
bent ; the lady who forgot to take the silver paper out of her 
train at home, and left it in the arms of the Gentlemen of the 
Court as she sailed forward ; the lady who was attacked by 
violent hysteria just as she passed the Duke of Edinburgh. 
Miss Corke’s advice — though we relied upon nobody else — was 
supplemented fifty times ; and one lady left us at half-past six 
in the afternoon, almost in tears, because she had failed to per- 
suade me to take a few lessons, at a guinea a lesson, from a 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


291 


French lady who made a specialty of debutante presentations. 
I think I should have taken them, the occasion found me with 
so little self-reliance, if it had not been for Lady Torquilin. 
But Lady Torquilin said No, certainly not, it was a silly waste 
of money, and she could show me everything that was necessary 
for all practical purposes as well as Madame Anybody. So 
several mornings we had little rehearsals, Lady Torquilin and 
I, after breakfast, in my room, by which I profited much. We 
did it very simply, with a towel and whatever flowers were left 
over from dinner the night before. I would pin the towel to 
my dress behind and hold the flowers, and advance from the 
other end of the room to Lady Torquilin, who represented 
Her Majesty, and gave me her hand to kiss. I found the 
curtsey difficult at first, especially the getting up part of it, 
and Lady Torquilin was obliged to give me a great deal of 
practice. 4 Remember one thing about the Queen’s hand abso- 
lutely, child,’ said she. 4 You’re not, under any circumstances 
whatever, to help yourself up by it \ 9 And then I would be the 
Queen, and Lady Torquilin, just to get into the way of it 
again, would pin on the towel and carry the roses, and curtsey 
to me. 


293 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


XXVIII 

I KNOW I stall enjoy writing this chapter, I enjoyed its 
prospective contents so much. To be perfectly candid, I 
liked going to Court better than any other thing I did in 
England, not excepting Madame Tussaud’s, or the Beefeaters at 
the Tower, or even 4 Our Flat 9 at the Strand. It did a great 
deal to reconcile me, practically, with monarchical institutions, 
although, chiefly on poppa’s account, I should like it to be under- 
stood that my democratic theories are still quite unshaken in 
every respect. 

It seems to me, looking back upon it, that we began to go 
very early in the morning. I remember a vision of long white 
boxes piled up at the end of the room through the grey of dawn, 
and a very short nap afterwards, before the maid came knocking 
with Lady Torquilin’s inquiries as to how I had slept, and did I 
remember that the hairdresser was coming at nine sharp ? It 
was a gentle knock, but it seemed to bristle with portent as I 
heard it, and brought with it the swift realisation that this was 
Friday at last — the Friday on which I should see Queen Victoria. 
And yet, of course, to be quite candid, that was only half the 
excitement the knock brought ; the other half was that Queen 
Victoria should see me, for an instant and as an individual. 
There was a very gratifying flutter in that. 

The hairdresser was prompt. She came just as Charlotte 
was going out with the tray, Lady Torquilin having decreed 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


2 93 


fchat we should take our morning meal in retirement. She was 
a kind, pleasant, loquacious hairdresser. 

4 I’m glad to see you’ve been able to take a good breakfast, 
miss,’ she said, as she puffed and curled me. 4 That’s ’alf the 
battle ! ’ She was sorry that she had to come to us so early, 4 but 
not until two o’clock, miss, do I expect to be for one moment off 
my feet, what with Ontry ladys who don’t wish to be done 
till they’re just getting into their carriages — though for that I 
don’t blame them, miss, and nobody could. I’m afraid you’ll 
find these lappits very wearing on the nerves before the day 
is out. But I’ll just pin them up so, miss— and of course 
you must do as best pleases you, but my advice would be, 
don’t let them down for anybody, miss, till you start.’ But 
I was not sorry the hairdresser came so early. It would 
have been much more wearing on the nerves to have waited 
for her. 

Perhaps you will find it difficult to understand the interest 
with which I watched my own development into a lady dressed 
for Court. Even the most familiar details of costume seemed to 
acquire a new meaning and importance, while those of special 
relevance had the charm that might arise from the mingling of 
a very august occasion with a fancy-dress ball. When I was 
quite ready, it seemed to me that I was a different person, very 
pretty, very tall, with a tendency to look backward over my 
shoulder, wearing, as well as a beautiful sweeping gown, a lofty 
and complete set of monarchical prejudices, which I thought be- 
coming in masquerade. I was too much fascinated with my out- 
ward self. I could have wished, for an instant, that the Declara- 
tion of Independence was hanging about somewhere framed. 

Then the advent of the big square wooden box from the 
florist’s, and the gracious wonder of white roses and grasses 


294 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


inside, with little buds dropping and caught in its trailing 
ribbons — there is a great deal of the essence of a Royal function 
in a Drawing-Room bouquet. And then Lady Torquilin, with 
a new graciousness and dignity, quite a long way off if 1 had not 
been conscious of sharing her state for the time. Lady Torquilin’s 
appearance gave me more ideas about my own than the pier- 
glass did. c Dear me ! ’ I thought, with a certain rapture, 4 do 
I really look anything like that ? 9 

We went down in the lift one at a time, with Charlotte as 
train-bearer, and the other maids furtively admiring from the end 
of the hall. Almost everybody in Cadogan Mansions seemed 
to be going out at about the same time, and a small crowd had 
gathered on each side of the strip of carpet* that led from the 
door to the carriage. It was Lady Mafferton’s carriage, lent for 
the occasion, and the footman and coachman were as impressive 
as powder and buff and brass buttons would make them. In 
addition, they wore remarkable floral designs about the size and 
shape of a cabbage-leaf upon their breasts immediately under 
their chins. That was another thing that could not have been 
done with dignity in America. 

The weather looked threatening as we drove off, precisely 
at twelve o’clock, and presently it began to rain with great 
industry and determination. The drops came streaming down 
outside the carriage windows ; fewer people as we passed leaned 
out of hansoms to look at us. Inside the Maflerton carriage we 
were absurdly secure from the weather ; we surveyed our trains, 
piled up on the opposite seat, with complacency ; we took no 
thou glit even for the curl of our feathers. We counted, as we 
drove past them to take our place, and there were forty carriages 
in line ahead of us. Then we stopped behind the last, in the 
middle of a wide road, heavily bordered under the trees with 





296 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 

damp people and dripping umbrellas — there for the spectacle. 
All kinds of people and all kinds of umbrellas, I noticed with 
interest — ladies and gentlemen, and little seamstresses, and 
loafers and ragamuffins, and apple-women, and a large propor- 
tion of your respectable lower middle-class. We sat in state 
amongst them in the rain, being observed, and liking it. I heard 
my roses approved, and the nape of my neck, and Lady Tor- 
quilin’s diamonds. I also heard it made very unpleasant for 
an elderly young lady in the carriage in front of ours, whose 
appearance was not approved by a pair of candid newsboys. 
The policemen kept the people off, however ; they could only 
approach outside a certain limit, and there they stood, or walked 
up and down, huddled together in the rain, and complaining of 
the clouded carriage windows. I think there came to me then, 
sitting in the carriage in the warmth and pride and fragrance 
and luxuriance of it all, one supreme moment of experience, 
when I bent my head over my roses and looked out into the 
ra in — on e throb of exulting pleasure that seemed to hold the 
whole meaning of the thing I was doing, and to make its covet- 
able nature plain. I find my thoughts centre, looking back, 
upon that one moment. 

It was three o’clock before we moved again. In the hours 
that came between we had nothing to do but smell our flowers, 
discuss the people who drove past to take places farther down 
the line, congratulate ourselves upon being forty -first, and ea*u 
tiny sandwiches done up in tissue paper, with serious regard for 
the crumbs ; yet the time did not seem at all long. Mr. Oddie 
Pratte, who was to escort us through the palace and home agmn, 
made an incident, dashing up in a hansom on his way to the 
club to dress, but that was all. And once Lady Torquilin bad 
the footman down to tell him and his brother- functionary under 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 297 

the big umbrella to put on their rubber coats. 4 Thank you, 
my lady ! ’ said the footman, and went back to the box ; but 
neither of them took advantage of the permission. They were 
going to Court too, and knew what was seemly. And the 
steamy crowd stayed on till the last. 


2g8 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


XXIX 


RESENTLY, when we were 
not in the least expecting 
it, there came a little sudden 
jolt that made us look at 
each other precipitately. 
Lady Torquilin was quite as 
nervous as I at this point. 
c What has become of 
Oddie ? ’ she exclaimed, and 
descried a red coat in a cab 
rolling up beside us with in- 
tense relief. As we passed 
through the Palace gates 
the cab disappeared, and chaos 
came again. 4 Naughty boy!’ 
said Lady Torquilin, in bitterness of 
spirit. ‘ Why, in the name of for- 
tune, couldn’t he have come with us 
in the carriage ? Men have no 
nerves, my dear, none whatever ; and 
they can’t understand our having 
them ! ’ But at that moment we 
alighted, in a maze of directions, upon the wide, red-carpeted 
steps, and whisked as rapidly as possible through great corridors 




‘ AND CHAOS CAME AGAIN.’ 



300 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


with knots of gentlemen in uniform in them to the cloak-room. 
c Hurry, child ! ’ whispered Lady Torquilin, handing our wraps 
to the white-capped maid. ‘ Don’t let these people get ahead of 
us, and keep close to me ! ’ — and 1 observed the same spasmodic 
haste in everybody else. With our trains over our arms we 
fled after the others, as rapidly as decorum would permit, through 
spacious halls and rooms that lapse into a red confusion in my 
recollection, leaving one of my presentation cards somewhere on 
the way, and reaching the limit of permitted progress at last 
with a strong sense of security and comfort. We found it in a 
large pillared room full of regularly-curving lines of chairs, 
occupied by the ladies of the forty carriages that were before us. 
Every head wore its three white feathers and its tulle extension, 
and the aggregation of plumes and lappets and gentle movements 
made one in the rear think of a flock of tame pigeons nodding 
and pecking — it was very c quaint,’ as Lady Torquilin said when 
I pointed it out. The dresses of these ladies immediately be- 
came a source of the liveliest interest to us, as ours were appa- 
rently to those who sat near us. In fact, I had never seen such 
undisguised curiosity of a polite kind before. But then I do 
not know that I had ever been in the same room with so many 
jewels, and brocades, and rare orchids, and drooping feathers, and 
patrician features before, so perhaps this is not surprising. A 
few gentlemen were standing about the room, holding fans and 
bouquets, leaning over the backs of the ladies’ chairs, and looking 
rather distraught, in very becoming costumes of black velvet 
and silk stockings and shoe-buckles, and officers in uniform were 
scattered through the room, looking as if they felt rather more 
important than the men in black ; as I dare say they did, repre- 
senting that most glorious and impressive British institution, the 
Army, while the others were only private gentlemen, their own 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON %o\ 

property, and not connected with her Majesty in any personal 
way whatever. 

4 Here you are/ said somebody close behind us. 4 How dye 
do, Auntie ? How d’ye do, Miss Wick ? Ton my word, I’m 
awfully sorry I missed you before; but you’re all right, aren’t you ? 
The brute of a policeman at the gates wouldn’t pass a hansom.’ 

It was Mr. Oddie Pratte, of course, looking particularly 
handsome in his red-and-plaid uniform, holding his helmet in 
front of him in the way that people acquire in the Army, and 
pleased, as usual, with the world at large. 

4 Then may I ask how you came here, sir ? ’ said Lady 
Torquilin, making a pretence of severity. 

4 Private entree ! ’ responded Mr. Pratte, with an assumption 
of grandeur. 4 Fellow drove me up as a matter of course — no 
apologies ! They suspected I was somebody, I guess, coming 
that way, and I gave the man his exact fare, to deepen the im- 
pression. Walked in. Nobody said anything ! It’s what you 
call a game o’ bluff, Auntie dear ! ’ 

4 A piece of downright impertinence ! ’ said Lady Torquilin? 
pleasantly. ‘It was your red coat, boy. Now, what do you 
think of our gowns ? ’ 

Mr. Pratte told us what he thought of them with great 
amiability and candour. I had seen quite enough of him since 
the day at Aldershot to permit and enjoy his opinion, which even 
its frequent use of 4 chic ’and 4 rico ’ did not make in any way 
irreverent. This young gentleman was a connoisseur in gowns ; 
he understood them very well, and we were both pleased that 
he liked ours. As we criticised and chaffed and chatted a door 
opened at the farther end of the room, and all the ladies rose 
precipitately and swept forward. 

It was like a great shimmering wave, radiant in colour, 


307 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


breaking in a hundred places into the foam of those dimpling 
feathers and streaming lappets, and it rushed with unanimity to 
the open door, stopping there, chafing, on this side of a silk rope 
and a Gentleman of the Court. We hurried on with the wave 
— Lady Torquilin and Mr. Oddie Pratte and I — and presently 
we were inextricably massed about half-way from its despairing 
outer edge, in an encounter of elbows which was only a little less 
than furious. Everybody gathered her train over her left arm — it 
made one think of the ladies of Nepaul, who wear theirs in front, 
it is said — and clung with one hand to her prodigious bouquet, 
protecting her pendent head-dress with the other. 4 For pity’s 
sake, child, take care of your lappets/ exclaimed Lady Torquilin. 
‘ Look at that ! ’ I looked at 4 that 9 • it was a ragged fragment 
of tulle about a quarter of a yard long, dependent from the 
graceful head of a young lady immediately in front of us. She 
did not know of her misfortune, poor thing, but she had a 
vague and undetermined sense of woe, and she turned to us 
with speaking eyes. c IVe lost mamma/ she said, unhappily. 

4 Where is mamma ? I must go to mamma/ And she was not 
such a very young lady either. But Lady Torquilin, in her kind- 
ness of heart, said, 4 So you shall, my dear, so you shall ! ’ and 
Mr. Pratte took his aunt’s bouquet and mine, and held them, 
one in each hand, above the heads of the mob of fine-ladyhood, 
rather enjoying the situation, I think, so that we could crowd 
together and allow the young lady who wanted her mamma to 
go and find her. Mr. Oddie Pratte took excellent care of the 
bouquets, holding them aloft in that manner, and looked so 
gallantly handsome doing it that other gentlemen immediately 
followed his example, and turned themselves into flowery can- 
delabra, with great effect upon the brilliancy of the scene. 

A sudden movement among the ladies nearest the silken 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


3°3 


barrier — a sudden concentration of energy that came with the 
knowledge that there was progress to be made, progress to 
Royalty ! A quick, heaving rush through and beyond into 
another apartment full of emptiness and marble pillars, and we 
were once more at a standstill, having conquered a few places — 
brought to a masterly inactivity by another silken cord and 
another Gentleman of the Court, polite but firm. In the room 
beyond we could see certain figures moving about at their ease, 
with no crush and no struggle — the ladies and gentlemen of the 
Private Entree. With what lofty superiority we invested them ! 
They seemed, for the time, to belong to some other planet, where 
Royal beings grew and smiled at every street-corner, and to be, on 
the other side of that silken barrier, an immeasurable distance off. 
It was a distinct shock to hear an elderly lady beside us, done up 
mainly in amethysts, recognise a cousin among them. It seemed 
to be self-evident that she had no right to have a cousin there. 

4 I’ll see you through the barrier,’ said Mr. Oddie Pratte, 
4 and then I’ll have to leave you. I’ll bolt round the other way, 
and be waiting for you at the off-door, Auntie. I’d come through, 
only Her Maj. does hate it so. Not at all nice of her, I call it, 
but she can’t bear the most charming of us about on these occa- 
sions. We’re not good enough.’ A large-boned lady in front — 
red velvet and cream — with a diminutive major in attendance, 
turned to him at this, and said with unction, 4 1 am sure, Edwin, 
that is not the case. I have it on excellent authority that the 
Queen is pleased when gentlemen come through. Remember, 
Fidwin, I will not face it alone.’ 

4 1 think you will do very well, my dear ! ’ Edwin responded. 
4 Brace up ! ’Pon my word, I don’t think I ought to go. I’ll 
join you at ’ 

4 If you desert me, Edwin, I shall die ! ’ said the bony lady, 


304 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


in a strong undertone ; and at that moment the crowd broke 
again. Oddie slipped away, and we went on exultantly two 
places, for the major had basely and swiftly followed Mr. Pratte, 
and his timid spouse, in a last clutching expostulation, had fallen 
hopelessly to the rear. 

About twenty of us, this time, were let in at once. The last 
of the preceding twenty were slowly and singly pacing after one 
another’s trains round two sides of this third big room towards a 
door at the farther corner. There was a most impressive silence. 
As we got into file I felt that the supreme moment was at hand, 
and it was not a comfortable feeling. Lady Torquilin, in front 
of me, put a question to a gentleman in a uniform she ought to 
have been afraid of — only that nothing ever terrified Lady Tor- 
quilin, which made it less comfortable still. 4 Oh, Lord Maffer- 
ton,’ said she — I hadn’t recognised him in my nervousness and 
his gold lace — 4 How many curtseys are there to make ? ’ 

4 Nine, dear lady,’ replied this peer, with evident enjoyment. 
4 It’s the most brilliant Drawing-Room of the season. Every 
Royalty who could possibly attend is here. Nine, at the 
least ! ’ 

Lady Torquilin’s reply utterly terrified me. It was confi- 
dential, and delivered in an undertone, but it was full of severe 
meaning. 4 I’m full of rheumatism,’ said she, 4 and I shan’t 
do it.’ 

The question as to what Lady Torquilin would do, if not 
what was required of her, rose vividly before me, and kept me 
company at every step of that interminable round. 4 Am I all 
right ? ’ she whispered over her shoulder from the other end of 
that trailing length of pansy-coloured velvet. 4 Perfectly/ I 
said. But there was nobody to tell me that I was all right — I 
might have been a thing of shreds and patches. Somebody’s 



is m 


WM 


xvx-,? 





‘ IT WAS MY TURN-’ 

. i 



yo6 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


roses had dropped ; I was walking on pink petals. What a 
pity ! And I had forgotten to take off my glove ; would it ever 
come unbuttoned ? How deliberately we were nearing that door 
at the farther end ! And how could I possibly have supposed 
that my heart would beat like this ! It was all very well to 
allow one’s self a little excitement in preparation ; but when it 
came to the actual event I reminded myself that I had not had 
the slightest intention of being nervous. I called all my demo- 
cratic principles to my assistance — none of them would come. 
1 Remember, Mamie Wick,’ said I to myself, ‘ you don’t believe 
in queens.’ But at that moment I saw three Gentlemen of the 
Household bending over, and stretching out Lady Torquilin’s 
train into an illimitable expanse. I looked beyond, and there, 
in the midst of all her dazzling Court, stood Queen Victoria. 
And Lady Torquilin was bending over her hand ! And in 
another moment it would be — it was my turn ! I felt the 
touches on my own train, I heard somebody call a name I had 
a vague familiarity with — ‘ Miss Mamie Wick.’ I was launched 
at last towards that little black figure of Royalty with the Blue 
Ribbon crossing her breast and the Koh-i-nor sparkling there ! 
Didn’t you believe in queens, Miss Mamie Wick, at that 
moment ? I’m very much afraid you did. 

And all that I remember after was going down very 
unsteadily before her, and just daring the lightest touch of my 
lips upon the gracious little hand she laid on mine. And then 
not getting nearly time enough to make all of those nine curtseys 
to the beautiful sparkling people that stood at the Queen’s left 
hand, before two more Gentlemen of the Court gathered up my 
draperies from behind my feet and threw them mercifully over 
my arm for me. And one awful moment when I couldn’t quite 
tell whether I had backed out of all the Royal presences or not, 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


307 


made up my mind that I had, then unmade it, and in agony of 
spirit turned and baclced again ! 

It was over at last. I had kissed the hand of the Queen of 
Great Britain and Ireland, and — there’s no use in trying to 
believe anything to the contraiy — I was proud of it. Lady 
Torquilin and I regarded each other in the next room with pale 
and breathless congratulation, and then turned with one accord 
to Oddie Pratte. 

4 On the whole,’ said that young gentleman, blandly, 4 you 
did me credit ! * 


308 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


XXX 

r AM writing this last chapter in the top berth of a saloon 
A cabin on board the Cnnard s.s. ‘ Etruria/ which left Liver- 
pool June 25, and is now three days out. From which it will 
be seen that I am going home. 

Nothing has happened there, you will be glad to hear, 
perhaps. Poppa and momma, and all the dear ones of Mrs. 
Portheris’s Christmas card, are quite in their usual state of 
health. The elections are not on at present, so there is no 
family depression in connection with poppa’s political future. I 
am not running away from the English climate either, which 
had begun, shortly before I left, to be rather agreeable. I have 
been obliged to leave England on account of a Misunder- 
standing. 

In order that you should quite see that nobody was parti- 
cularly to blame, I am afraid I shall have to be very explicit, 
which is in a way disagreeable. But Lady Torquilin said the 
day I came away that it would have been better if I had been 
explicit sooner, and I shall certainly never postpone the duty 
again. So that, although I should much prefer to let my 
English experiences close happily and gloriously with going to 
Court, I feel compelled to add here, in the contracted space at 
my disposal, the true story of how I went to dine with Mr. 
Charles Mafferton’s father and mother and brother and sisters 
in Hertford Street, Mayfair. 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


309 


It occurred almost as soon as the family returned from the 
South of France, where they had been all spring, you remember, 
from considerations affecting the health of the eldest Miss 
Mafferton — with whom I had kept up, from time to time, a very 
pleasant correspondence. One day, about three weeks after the 
Drawing-Room, when Lady Torquilin and I could scarcely ever 
rely upon an afternoon at home, we came in to find all the 
Mafferton cards again in. There was a note, too, in which Mrs. 
Mafferton begged Lady Torquilin to waive ceremony and bring 
me to dine with them the following evening. 4 You can guess/ 
said Mrs. Mafferton, 4 how anxious we must be to see her.’ There 
was a postscript to the invitation, which said that although 
Charlie, as we probably knew, was unfortunately out of town 
for a day or two, Mrs Mafferton hoped he would be back in the 
course of the evening. 

4 Well, my dear/ said Lady Torquilin, 4 it’s easily seen that I 
can’t go, with those Watkins people coming here. But you 
shall — I’ll let you off the Watkinses. It isn’t really fair to 
the Maffertons to keep them waiting any longer. I’ll write at 
once and say so. Of course,’ Lady Torquilin went on, 4 under 
ordinary circumstances I shouldn’t think of letting you go out 
to dinner alone, but in this case — there is sure to be only the 
family, you know — I don’t think it matters.’ 

So Lady Torquilin wrote, and when the time came lent me 
Charlotte to go with me in a hansom to Hertford Street, May- 
fair. 4 Be sure you bring me back a full and particular account 
of how they all behave, child/ said she, as she looked me over 
after my toilette was made ; 4 1 shall be interested to hear.’ 

A massive butler let me into the usual narrow, high-ceiled 
Mayfair hall, richly lighted and luxurious ; the usual convenient 
maid in a white cap appeared at the first landing to show the way 


3io 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


to the proper room for my wraps. After Lady Torquilin’s ex- 
pression of interest in how they behaved, I had been wonderiDg 
whether the Maffertons had any idiosyncrasies, and I did not 
waste any unnecessary time in final touches before going down 
to see. I like people with idiosyncrasies, and lately I had been 
growing accustomed to those of the English nation ; as a whole 
they no longer struck me forcibly. I quite anticipated some 
fresh ones, and the opportunity of observing them closely. 

The drawing-room seemed, as I went in, to be full of Maffer- 
tons. There were more Maffertons than china plates on the 
wall, than patterns on the carpet. And yet there were only the 
four young ladies and their mother and father. The effect was 
produced, I think, by the great similarity between the Misses 
Mafferton. Not in actual face or figure ; there were quite per- 
ceptible differences there. The likeness lay in an indefinable 
shade of manner and behaviour, in the subdued and unobtrusive 
way in which they all got up and looked at me and at their 
mamma, waiting until it should be entirely proper for them to 
come forward. They were dressed a good deal alike, in low tones 
of silk, high necked, rather wrinkling at the shoulders, and 
finished with lace frills at the throat and wrists, and they all 
wore their hair parted in the middle, brushed smoothly back 
over their ears, and braided neatly across and across behind. I 
have never been sure about their ages — they might have been 
anything from twenty-five to forty ; but Isabella, whom they 
spoke of as the youngest, seemed to me to be the most serious 
and elderly of all. 

Mrs. Mafferton was a very stout old lady, with what is called 
a fine face. She wore a good many old-fashioned rings, and a 
wide lace collar over her expansive black silk, and as she came 
heavily forward to meet me she held out both her hands, and 








312 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


beamed upon me — not an impulsive beam, however, rather a 
beam with an element of caution in it. 

c You are very welcome, Miss Wick. Indeed, we have been 
looking forward to this. I think you ought to let me give you 
a kiss ! , 

Of course I did let Mrs. Mafferton give me a kiss — it was 
impossible to refuse. But I thought myself singularly favoured ; 
it did not seem at all in accordance with the character of the 
family to fall upon the neck of a stranger and embrace her by 
way of welcoming her to dinner. I was still further of that 
opinion when each of the Misses Mafferton followed the example 
of their mamma, and saluted me tenderly on the same cheek. 
But I immediately put it down to be an idiosyncrasy. ‘ We 
are so glad to see you at last,’ said the eldest. 4 Yes, indeed ! 1 
said the second. c We began to think we never should/ said 
the third. ‘ We really did ! ’ said the fourth. 

c Papa/ said Mrs. Mafferton, c this is Miss Wick, of whom 
we have all heard so much.’ She spoke very close to the ear of 
an old gentleman in an arm-chair screened from the fire, with 
one leg stretched out on a rest ; but he did not understand, and 
she had to say it over again : c Miss Wick, of whom we have all 
heard so much. Poor dear ! he does not hear very well/ Mrs. 
Mafferton added to me. 6 You must use the speaking-trumpet, 
I fear, Miss Wick/ ‘Well/ said old Mr. Mafferton, after 
shaking hands with me and apologising for not rising, c if this 
is Miss Wick, I don’t see why I shouldn’t have a kiss too.’ At 
which Mrs. Mafferton and all the young ladies laughed and pro- 
tested, 4 Oh, fie, papa ! ’ For my part I began to think this 
idiosyncrasy singularly common to the family. 

Then the eldest Miss Mafferton put one end of a long black 
speaking-trumpet into my hand, and Mr. Mafferton, seeing her 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


3'3 

do this, applied the other to his ear. I had nothing whatever 
to say, but, overcome with the fear of seeming rude, I was raising 
it to my lips and thinking hard when I felt two anxious hands 
upon my arm. 6 Do excuse us ! ’ exclaimed a Miss Mafferton, 
‘ but if you wouldn’t mind holding it just a little farther from 
your lips, please ! We are obliged to tell everybody. Otherwise 
the voice makes quite a distressing noise in his poor ears.’ At 
which every semblance of an idea left me instantly. Yet I must 
say something — Mr. Mafferton was waiting at the other end of 
the tube. This was the imbecility I gave expression to. ‘ I 
came here in a cab ! ’ I said. It was impossible to think of 
anything else. 

That was not a very propitious beginning; and Mr. Mafferton’s 
further apology for not being able to take me down to dinner, 
on the ground that he had to be taken down by the butler 
himself, did not help matters in the very least. At dinner 
I sat upon Mr. Mafferton’s right, with the coiling length 
of the speaking-trumpet between us. The brother came in 
just before we went down — a thin young man with a ragged 
beard, a curate. Of course, a curate being there, we began with 
a blessing. 

Then Mrs. Mafferton said, i I hope you won’t mind our not 
having asked any one else, Miss Wick. We were selfish enough 
to want you, this first evening, all to ourselves.’ 

It was certainly the Mafferton idiosyncrasy to be extrava- 
gantly kind. I returned that nothing could have been more 
delightful for me. 

c Except that we think that dear naughty Lady Torquilin 
should have come too ! ’ said the youngest Miss Mafferton. It 
began to seem to me that none of these young ladies considered 
themselves entitled to an opinion in the first person singular. 


3U 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


An idea appeared to be, as it were, a family product. c She 
was very sorry/ I said. 

6 And so, I am sure, are we/ remarked Mrs. Mafferton, gra- 
ciously, from the other end of the table. 4 It was through dear 
Lady Torquilin, I believe, that you first met our son, Miss 
Wick?’ 

I began to feel profoundly uncomfortable — I scarcely knew 
exactly why. It became apparent to me that there was something 
in the domestic atmosphere with which I was out of sympathy. 
I thought the four Miss Maffertons looked at me with too much 
interest, and I believed that the curate was purposely distracting 
himself with his soup. I corroborated what Mrs. Mafferton had 
said rather awkwardly, and caught one Miss Mafferton looking 
at another in a way that expressed distinct sympathy for me. 

I was quite relieved when Mrs. Mafferton changed the 
subject by saying, 4 So you are an American, Miss Wick ? ’ and 
I was able to tell her something about Chicago and our methods 
of railway travelling. Mrs. Mafferton was very pleasant about 
Americans ; she said she always found them nice, kind-hearted 
people. The curate said, thoughtfully, crumbling his bread, that 
we had a vast country over there. 

4 Francis ! ’ exclaimed the Miss Mafferton who sat next 
to him, playfully abstracting the crumbs, 4 you know that’s 
naughty of you ! I’m afraid you’ve come to a very nervous 
family, Miss Wick. 

I felt myself blushing abominably. The situation all at 
once defined itself and became terrible. How could I tell the 
Maffertons, assembled there around their dinner-table, that I 
was not coming to their family ! 

‘ Burgundy, miss ? ’ 

IIow could I do anything but sip my claret with immoderate 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


315 
























4 EVEN THEN, I REMEMBER, HE 


LOOKED A SERIOUS PERSON.’ 


3*6 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


absorption, and say that nervous disorders did sometimes run in 
families, or something equally imbecile ! 

4 But Charlie’s nerves are as strong as possible ! 9 said 
another Miss Mafferton, reproachfully, to her sister. 

We had other general conversation, and I spoke into Mr. 
Mafferton’s trumpet several times with a certain amount of 
coherence ; but I remember only the points which struck me as 
of special interest at the time. Among them was the proposal 
that, if I were willing, Mrs. Mafferton should drive me on 
Tuesday week — that would be to-day — to see an invalid married 
sister living in Hampstead who was most anxious to welcome 
me. How could I say I was not willing ! 

Then, after dinner, in the drawing-room, Mrs. Mafferton took 
me aside 4 for a little chat,’ and told me what a good son Charles 
had always been, and showed me several photographs of him at 
earlier stages, from the time he wore a sash and pinafore. Even 
then, 1 remember, he looked a serious person. 

After which I had another little chat with two of the Misses 
Mafferton together, who explained what a devoted brother they 
had always had in Charlie. 4 We are so glad you’ve been kind 
to him,’ they said, impulsively. 4 Of course we haven’t seen him 
yet since our return, but his letters have told us that much.’ I 
tried in vain to rack my brain for occasions on which I had been 
kind to Mr. Charles Mafferton, and longed for an attack of faint- 
ness or a severe headache. 

4 Indeed,’ I said, 4 it was always your brother who was kind — 
to Lady Torquilin and to me.’ At which the young ladies 
smiled consciously, and said something about that being perfectly 
natural. Then, just as I was wondering whether I absolutely 
must wait for Charlotte to arrive in a cab to take me home as 
Lady Torquilin had arranged, and as the third Miss Mafferton 



4 THE MISSES MAFFERTON, WHO ACCOMPANIED ME, TURNED QUITE PALE.’ 





AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


3 j 8 

was telling me how noble but how uninteresting it was ol 
Francis to take up extreme Ritualistic views and vow himself to 
celibacy, the door-bell rang. 

‘ There’s Charlie now ! ’ exclaimed the Misses Mafferton all 
together. 

‘ I must really go ! 9 I said precipitately. c I— I promised 
Lady Torquilin to be home early ’ — noting with despair by the 
gold clock under glass on the mantel that it was only a quarter 
to ten — ‘ and the Ameiican mail goes out to-morrow — at least, I 
think it does — and — and Good-night, Mrs. Mafferton ! Good- 
niglit , Mr. Mafferton ! ’ I said it very rapidly, and although they 
were all kind enough to meet my departure with protest, I 
think it was evident to them that for some reason or other I 
really must go. The young ladies exchanged glances of under- 
standing. I think their idea was that I dreaded the embarrass- 
ment of meeting Mr. Charles Mafferton before his family. Two 
of them came upstairs with me to get my wraps, and assured 
me in various indirect ways that they quite understood — it was 
awkward. 

Coming down, we met Mr. Charles Mafferton at the door of 
the drawing-room. The Misses Mafferton, who accompanied me, 
turned quite pale when they heard me assure their brother that 
there was not the slightest necessity that he should accompany 
me home. I could not persuade him of this, however, and we 
drove away together. 

I am afraid I cannot possibly report the conversation that 
took place between Mr. Mafferton and myself in the cab. Look- 
ing back upon it, I find it difficult to understand clearly, as I 
dare say he does if he ever thinks about it. After I had made 
him see quite plainly that it was utterly, absolutely impossible, 
which was not easy, he left me to infer that I had been incon- 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


319 


sistent, though I am sure I could make no self-accusation which 
would be more baseless. Privately, I thought the inconsistency 
was his, and that it was of the most glaring description. I 
am of opinion, with all due respect to your English customs, 
that if Mr. MafFerton desired to marry me, he should have taken 
me, to some extent, into his confidence about it. He should 
not have made Lady Torquilin the sole repository of the idea. 
A single bunch of roses, or basket of fruit, or box of candy 
addressed to me specially, would have been enough to give my 
thoughts a proper direction in the matter. Then I would have 
known what to do. But I always seemed to make an unavoid- 
able second in Mr. MafFerton’s attentions, and accepted my share 
of them generally with an inward compunction. And I may say, 
without any malice at all, that to guess of one’s own accord at 
a developing sentiment within the breast of Mr. MafFerton would 
be an unlikely thing to occupy the liveliest imagination. 

Perhaps Mr. MafFerton did not know how his family had 
intended to behave to me. At all events, he offered no apology 
for their conduct. I may say that the only thing of any con- 
sequence that resulted from our drive was the resolution which 
I am carrying out on board the s.s. c Etruria * to-day. 

****** 

The ladies’ steward of the 4 Etruria,’ a little fellow with large 
blue eyes and spectacles and a drooping moustache, is very polite 
and attentive. His devotion, after Mr. MafFerton’s, seems the 
embodiment of romance. I shall hesitate about tipping him. 
He has just brought me some inspiring beef-tea, which accounts 
for those asterisks. 

The worst of it was Lady Torquilin’s scolding next morning 
— not that she said anything unkind, but because it gave me the 
idea that I had treated her badly too. I should be so sorry to 


320 


AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


think that I had treated Lady Torquilin badly. She seemed to 
think that I should have told her in the very beginning that I 

was engaged to Mr. Arthur 
Greenleaf Page, of the Yale 
University Staff. She seemed 
to think that I should have 
told everybody. I don’t see 
why, especially as we are not 
to be married until Christmas, 
and one never can tell what 
may happen. Young ladies 
do not speak of these things 
quite so much in America as 
you do in England, I think. 
They are not so openly known 
and discussed. I must apolo- 
gise to myself for bringing Mr. 
Page in even at this stage, 
but it seemed to be unavoid- 
able. 

I don’t know at all, by the 
vvay, what Arthur will say to 
this last of my 
English experi- 
ences. He may 
not consider it as 
‘ formative’ as 
he hoped the 
others would be. 
There is only 

6 the ladies’ steward.’ one thing that 



AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 


321 


makes the thought endurable for an instant — it would have been 
nice to be related to the Stacys. 

Just before sailing the purser supplied me with dear consola- 
tion in the shape of a letter from Miss Peter Corke. It was a 
c characteristic ’ letter, as we say when we want to say a thing 
easily — bewailing, advising, sternly questioning, comically repro- 
bating, a little sad and deprecating by accident, then rallying to 
herself again with all sorts of funny reproaches. 4 1 mean* to 
have done so much, and Pve done so little ! ’ was the burden of 
it, recurring often — ‘ I meant to have done so much, and I’ve 
done so little ! ’ Dear Peter ! She can’t possibly know how 
much she did do, though I’m taking my unformed mind back to 
a comparatively immature civilisation, and shall probably con- 
tinue to attend a church where they use spring-edged cushions 
and incandescent burners. Peter’s England will always be the 
true England to me. I shall be able to realise it again easily 
with some photographs and Hare’s c Walks in London,’ though 
I am afraid I have got all her delightful old moss-grown facts 
and figures mixed up so that I couldn’t write about them over 
again without assistance as intelligently as before. And Peter 
says she doesn’t mind going on in my second volume, if only I 
won’t print it ; which is very good of her when one thinks that 
the second volume will be American, and never written at 
all, but only lived, very quietly, under the maples at Yale. I 
hope she may be found in the last chapter of that one too. 
Dear Peter! 


( 2 ) 





BOOKS BY MRS. EVERARD COTES 

(Sara Jeannette Duncan*) 


The Pool in the Desert, and other stories. i2mo. 
Cloth, $r*5o. 

The volume comprises love stories, marked by ease of narrative, poetic 
feeling, and a humor that is very attractive. 

Those Delightful Americans. i2tno. Cloth, $1.50. 

“ A particularly clever and amusing book.” — New York Sun. 

“ Bubbling over with humorous situations and enjoyable contrasts.” 

— Chicago News. 

A Voyage of Consolation. Illustrated, nmo. Cloth, 

His Honour, and a Lady. Illustrated. 1 2mo. Cloth, 
$1.50. 

The Story of Sonny Sahib. Illustrated. 1 2mo. Cloth, 
$1.00. 

Vernon’s Aunt. With many Illustrations. 1 2mo. Cloth, 
$1.25. 

A Daughter of To-day. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 

A Social Departure : How Orthodocia and I Went Round 
the World by Ourselves . With 1 1 1 Illustrations by F. H. 
Townsend. 1 2mo. Cloth, $1.75 ; paper, 75 cents. 

An American Girl in London. With 80 Illustrations 
by F. H. Townsend. 1 2mo. Cloth, $1.50; paper, 50 
cents. 

The Simple Adventures of a Memsahib. With 
37 Illustrations by F. H. Townsend. 1 2mo. Cloth, #1.50. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


By FRANK R, STOCKTON. 


The Captain’s Toll-Gate. 

A Complete Posthumous Novel by Frank R. Stock- 
ton, Author of “Kate Bonnet, ” “The Lady or the 
Tiger,” etc. With a Memoir by Mrs. Stockton, an Etched 
Portrait, Views of Mr. Stockton’s Home, and a Bibli- 
ography. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 

The scene is partly laid in Washington but mainly in 
that part of West Virginia where the author spent the 
last three years of his life. Incidents centering about 
the “ Toll-Gate ” and a fashionable country home in the 
neighborhood are related with the author’s peculiar 
humor and charm of diction which have endeared him 
to a host of readers. 

The heroine who is an embodiment of the healthy 
vigorous girl of to-day, and her several suitors, together 
with the mistress of the country house and a meddlesome 
unmarried woman of the village, combine to present a 
fascinating and varied picture of social life to the present 
day. 

“ In the story we have the real Stockton at his best and brightest. 
The fun, the whimsicality, the queer doings, the very delightful people 
are such as his readers have been entertained with for so many years. 
The fertility of invention and ‘ngenuity is as fresh as in the early 
stories, and perhaps Mr. Stockton never came nearer to success in 
trying to keep a long story together to the end without digressions or 
a break in the plot. The heroine is a charming girl, her married 
hostess still more charming, and there are plenty of others the reader 
will be glad to meet. 

“ Mrs. Stockton’s sketch of her husband gives us a glimpse of a 
lovable and delightful personality and shows the author at work just 
as the readers must have imagined him. Swinging in a hammock 
under the fir trees, or when winter came, in an easy chair before a big 
log fire, he dreamed his fancies and dictated them, bit by bit, as they 
came, to his secretary .” — New York Sun . 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


A New Novel by the Author of 

"THE SILENCE OF DEAN MAITLAND." 


Richard Rosny. 

By Maxwell Gray. Frontispiece. i2mo. Cloth, 

“ Shows masterly and artistic work.” — Buffalo Commercial. 

“ Dignified, earnest, and thoughtfully written.” — Indianapolis 
News. 

“ The mystery of the plot is the principal charm. — Brooklyn Eagle. 

“ The book is full of action, and it would be hard to find anything 
dull in the whole story.” — Worcester Spy. 

“Of more than usual interest and strength, and in the psycho- 
logical study of character it is very strong.” — St. Paul Despatch. 

“ It is a dramatic and absorbing novel, and one that will be widely 
read.” — St. Louis Republic. 


OTHER BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
Each i2mo. Cloth, $1.00 ; Paper, 50 cents. 

The Silence of Dean Maitland. 

The Reproach of Annesley. 

An Innocent Impostor. 

A Costly Freak. 

The World’s Mercy. 

Sweethearts and Friends. 

The Last Sentence. 

Four-Leaved Clover. 

In the Heart of the Storm. 


The House of the Hidden Treasure. $1.50. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


BOOKS BY SIR GILBERT PARKER. 


Donovan Pasha, and Some People of Egypt. 

Illustrated. Colored Frontispiece. $1.50. 

Donovan Pasha is supposed to be in the service of the Khedive of Egypt, 
in a confidential capacity, at a time when the throne is tottering, where, by 
his skilful diplomacy, he continually meets Oriental cunning with European 
wit. From the principal character to the least significant the action is 
stirring and dramatic, and the incidents possess the inherent quality of pos- 
sibility. 

The Seats of the Mighty. 

Being the Memoirs of Captain Robert Moray, some- 
time an Officer in the Virginia Regiment, and afterwards 
of Amherst's Regiment. Illustrated. $1.50. 

“ Another historical romance of the vividness and intensity of * The 
Seats of the Mighty’ has never come from the pen of an American. From 
the first chapter to the last word interest in the book never wanes ; one finds 
it difficult to interrupt the narrative with breathing space. It whirls with 
excitement and strange adventure .” — Chicago Record. 

The Trail of the Sword. $1.25. 

“ Mr. Parker here adds to a reputation already wide, and anew demon- 
strates his power of pictorial portrayal and of strong dramatic situation and 
climax. ” — Philadelphia Bulletin. 

The Trespasser. $1.25. 

“ Interest, pith, force, and charm — Mr. Parker’s new story possesses all 
these qualities. . . . Almcst bare of synthetical decoration, his paragraphs 
are stirring because they are real. We read at times— as we have read the 
great masters of romance— breathlessly .” — The Critic. 

The Translation of a Savage. $1.25. 

“A book which no one will be satisfied to put down until the end has 
been matter of certainty and assurance .” — The Nation. 

Mrs. Falchion. $1.25. 

‘ ‘ A well-knit story, told in an exceedingly interesting way, and holding 
the reader’s attention to the end.” 


The Pomp of the Lavilettes. i6mo. Cloth, $1.25. 

“Its sincerity and rugged force will commend it to those who love and 
seek strong work in fiction .” — The Critic. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 









